


Sgt. Prompto's Lonely Hearts Club Band

by stand_by_me



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ensemble Cast, Friends to Lovers, Humor with plot, Multi, Regis is great and deserves all the good things, band au, creative liberties with magitek stuff, established Gladnis, expect this to be a wild ride, the ring and Ardyn are kind of the same, there's no peace treaty and no starscourge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9406736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stand_by_me/pseuds/stand_by_me
Summary: It was all over the news: Iedolas Aldercapt wasfinallyon his way out. With the emperor of Niflheim on his deathbed, the Lucian throne sees an opening - a chance to end the war as swiftly and painlessly as possible. Unfortunately, Niflheim's chancellor is a real pain in the ass, and he's taken every possible measure to keep Regis from doing...anything, really.The obvious solution? Having the crown prince and a few of his friends take on stage names and start a band, gaining entry into the empire through the awesome power of great hair andgroovy tunes. It's foolproof. Maybe.





	1. An Iedoleful Day for Niflheim

**Author's Note:**

> Of all my longfic ideas for this fandom, this is the _last_ one I thought would actually materialize. Life is full of surprises, huh?

“Chancellor Izunia, sir!  The press is clawing my eyes out over the news – they _need_ a statement from you.  I’m begging here.”

Ardyn sighed, moving his earpiece for a moment to clean off a bit of wax.  “Brandon, Brandon,” he told the intern.  “Always so melodramatic.”  The chaos on the other end of the line told him the boy wasn’t exaggerating as much as usual…this time, at least.  He just took _so_ much joy out of pushing his buttons.

All the same, Ardyn recognized that this was a situation that required his attention, relishing in the clicking sound of his boots on marble as he made his way down the hall.  An overzealous reporter snapped a picture from outside as he walked past, and Ardyn waved, giving his most reassuring smile.

 _Most reassuring_ was probably more like _most devious_ , but to Ardyn, they were the same thing.  If the people were reassured that he was plotting something, it still counted, right?  Of course it did.  All of it was in their interests, after all – at least on the surface.  He turned the earpiece back on and cleared his throat.  “Hold them off just a little longer, Brandon.  I’ll be out shortly.”

He was met with flashing lights and a barrage of questions, though it was nothing more than he expected.  It was messy business, preparing for the emperor’s passing.  So messy that it took more than a full minute to calm the reporters down enough to get this going in an orderly fashion, during which time Brandon rushed inside like a voretooth fleeing a behemoth.  Ardyn laughed, whether at the intern or the metaphor he wasn’t sure, and raised a hand for silence.  “I’m sure you and the rest of the world have already seen the headlines, so I’ll take questions.  You first, with the red hair.”

“Chancellor, how did the emperor fall so ill so quickly?”

Ardyn twisted his expression into one of utmost concern and shook his head, the picture of remorse.  “It was an enormously foolish oversight on my part, you see.  His Highness had been complaining of a stomachache for some time, and while his personal doctor saw nothing beyond a simple case of the stomach flu, I overlooked how he’s…gotten on in years, if you’ll excuse my crude phrasing.”

A moment passed, and Ardyn drew his eyebrows together for dramatic effect.  “To put it shortly, the lovely people at St. Rosa’s found an advanced case of stomach cancer.  Terminal, at this stage.  I’m afraid our dear emperor has no chance of recovery.”

A different reporter caught his eye, one wearing a hat that looked eerily similar to his.  Ardyn was as vulnerable to flattery as the next man, and not ashamed to act as such.  "Young man in the back, with the excellent fashion taste,” he said, smug grin gracing his features.

“Uh, thank you, sir!” the reporter said, forgetting his job for the shortest of moments.  “Uh, what will the transition to a post-emperor empire look like?  With your position, surely a line of succession has been discussed?”

 _A post-emperor empire.  What a lovely way to phrase it._ “As of now, I regret to inform you we don’t know very much about Iedolas’s intentions. However – with the best care in the world, the emperor has more than enough time left for the ministers and I to…discuss plans.”  He straightened his hat and gave another smile.  “As a matter of fact, I’m on my way to the hospital now.  So if you all will kindly excuse me—”

“Wait!” a few of the reporters shouted, and Ardyn widened his smile.

“What is there left to say?” he asked, tapping on his earpiece in a signal for Brandon to call security.

“I just have, uh, one more question, sir!” the fedora-wearing reporter said.  “Before you arrived, many of us were discussing national security.  With the emperor weakened, surely it appears that the empire itself is weakened as well?  What will you do?”

Ardyn chuckled deep in his throat.  “What will _I_ do?  My duty, of course.  It is true that to some delusional foreign states, this may seem like a good time to, I don’t know, take action and ‘end the war of the crystals,’ or some other nonsense.  To those, hmm, _states_ , who I’m sure have illegal access to this broadcast, heed my words: the Niflheim government has been prepared to deal with losses such as this for decades.  If nothing else, national security will remain a top priority.  I ask that you all – by whom I mean everyone here with me, as well as our homeland viewers – remain patient.  There is much to do in the coming days, but I _assure_ you that before the week is out, measures will be in place to ensure the people’s safety - and more importantly, our continued dominance over Eos.”

And with that, the guards arrived to disperse the crowd, and Ardyn made his way to his car, so warm with good cheer that the Glacian herself couldn’t make him cold.

 

\--------------------------------- 

 

There were places, albeit not many, where Prompto was prepared to hear screaming.  The amusement park under the strip mall on 21st Avenue.  The hospital, maybe.  The bleachers at the track meets he used to photograph.  Even the park near his house, though that really only applied on holidays.

Calli’s Corner Store, though? _Really?_

Prompto straightened up, prepared to jump into whatever was happening, just as the woman’s shriek died off in a very not-distressed fashion.  _Okay, so no one’s dying.  That was…really extra._   The one other customer in the shop didn’t catch on as quickly, though.  “Are you okay, Em?”

“Yes, I’m just surprised, I – read this,” she said, handing her phone to the man behind her.

He skimmed the screen with wary eyes, growing darker as he read on, and Prompto couldn’t keep himself from eavesdropping.   _If eavesdropping on someone who’d been screaming five seconds ago even counts as eavesdropping_.  “It’s nothing to get excited about,” he grumbled, handing the phone back.  “They’ll just put some other whackjob in his place as soon as he kicks the bucket.”

“Let me be optimistic, at least for a little while,” Em said, sliding her phone back into her purse.  “It’s not every day the empire takes a blow like that.”

The cashier, _somehow_ , hadn’t been paying attention to this whole incident, and scanned their items with a yawn.  Prompto was impressed – he wished he had nerves of steel like that.  Or at least that level of apathy.

Prompto cleared his throat.  “Um, excuse me?” he asked, relieved when both Em and the man turned around.  “What happened?  Who’s kicking the bucket?”

They didn’t have time to answer before the door to the shop opened, and Prompto only realized something was amiss when both of them raised their eyebrows in curiosity.  “You look a bit shaken,” a voice said behind him, accompanied by a gloved hand on his shoulder.

Shaken or not, Prompto wasn’t cool with random strangers touching him, and he was about to say so before - _oh_.  “Can you give a guy a little warning, Iggy?”

“Walk with me,” Ignis said, hand still on his shoulder.  The touch was light, but insistent all the same, and Prompto didn’t have to think very hard to know what this was about.  He looked longingly at his prescription behind the counter and sighed, making a mental note not to forget about it this time.

The street was busy, but not so busy that they could speak freely and not risk being overheard.  “So…”  _What happened in the empire?  Who’s dying?_

Ignis didn’t speak for a while, setting a brisk pace as he led them north, closer to the heart of the city.  “I read the news today.”

“And?” Prompto asked, struggling not to sound impatient.

“Oh boy,” Ignis answered with a sigh, taking a notepad out of his jacket.  “It’s about a lucky man who made the grade.  Might interest you.”

 _Look, I get that you don’t want other people to eavesdrop, but it’s not much of a conversation if I have no idea what’s going on._ Prompto frowned.  “What are you talking about?  I guess I haven’t exactly…read the news lately.  But I heard in Calli’s that—”

“Discretion, Prompto,” Ignis said lowly, tearing off a page from the notepad and placing it in his hand.  “A new recipe.  Try it out tonight?”

Ignis’s handwriting was smooth as always, even though he’d written the thing in about four seconds.  ‘ _Iedolas is dying.  Regardless of what the news outlets say, it’s more than likely foul play.  I would’ve contacted you sooner, but Noct only just got permission for you to attend the strategy meeting.’_

“Who else is, uh, coming over for dinner?” Prompto asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.  A strategy meeting.  An official.  Meeting.  Thing.  With official people.  Who have titles and positions and _shit,_ he really wasn’t cut out for that sort of thing.

Ignis gave him an appraising look, a _good job_ in his eyes that made Prompto feel a bit calmer.  “Gladio, certainly.  Noct and his father will be there as well.  And have you met Cor?  I believe he’ll come a bit later.”

 _The king.  I’m meeting the king.  Or at least sitting in the same room as him.  Which is close enough._ Prompto gulped.  “Uh…thanks,” was all his brain could think to say.

“I’m sure everyone will be delighted to see you,” Ignis said reassuringly.  “In the meantime, I think I need to head off.  Meet here in three hours?”

“Sounds good,” Prompto said, pocketing the piece of paper.  Three hours.  That was enough time to walk home, take a quick nap, fix his hair.  Pick up his prescription.  Process that the man in charge of the government that ruined his life was dying.  _Try to become a less embarrassing human being before sunset._

 

\---------------------------------

 

“He’s not texting me back,” Noctis said, planting his princely ass on the ground for the fourth time in as many minutes.

“Look, I’m sure he’s fine,” Gladio said, crossing his arms.  “Just stop worrying so we can get this over with.  I wanna get out of here as much as you do.”

The prince didn’t budge, continuing to stare at his phone like it was the fucking sun. “Why are we even training right now, anyway?  Shouldn’t I be with Specs, discussing…whatever it is Dad wants to do about _that_ tonight?”

 _Gee, I feel so appreciated_.  “You _should_ , except he had to leave to sneak Prompto inside,” Gladio said, not putting even a token effort into hiding his annoyance.  “I mean, I’m no expert on royal family dynamics – but you could’ve just _asked_ him to give Prompto clearance instead of making our lives more difficult.”

Noctis huffed.  “Like he would’ve said yes.  Prompto’s an outsider – if nothing else, he doesn’t have all the training the rest of us do.  He’s a ‘liability’ and a ‘bad influence.’”

“Oh please, like the king would still say that about your _ray of sunshine_ ,” Gladio said, smirking when Noct’s features reddened.

“When did I ever say _that_?” Noctis asked, doing a poor job of hiding his embarrassment.

“As they say, don’t drink and warp,” Gladio said.  “I’m pretty sure everyone in the Citadel’s heard about that little incident by now – ‘cept you, I guess.”

Noctis was silent for a moment, and Gladio realized that possibly everyone but the prince himself saw what a massive crush he had on his friend.  _You’re killin’ me, Noct._ “At least I’ve never eaten Cup Noodles in the bathtub,” Noct said, with a shit-eating grin.  “Check and mate, big guy.”

Gladio balked.  “How did you—”

“Guessed, but it looks like I hit that nail on the head.”  Noctis was unreasonably pleased with himself, so much so that he seemed to have forgotten about his case of ‘ _Prompto hasn’t texted me back, oh Gladio, however will I go on?’_ “How long until they get here, you think?”

In answer, Gladio’s phone started ringing, the old rock song making it clear it was Ignis calling.  “What’s up, Iggy?”

“I can’t believe I’m calling about this,” Ignis deadpanned.  “…Ask Noct whether Prompto should swear the green or the burgundy flannel.”

 _By the Six_ , Gladio thought, rubbing his temples.  “Noct, Prompto wants to know whether he should wear the…green or burgundy…flannel?”

“Yeah, green or burgundy!” a muffled voice said across the line.

“Burgundy,” Noct said without hesitation.  “I’ll even wear mine too, if it’ll make him less nervous.”

 _He’s got it bad._ “Uh, burgundy,” Gladio said, refusing to bother with the second part.  The last thing Noctis needed was to be _more_ obvious.  “Anything else?”

“He wants to know what your usual Stargil order is,” Ignis said.  “I told him you don’t drink Stargil, but he’s, hmm.  Trying his best to make a good impression tonight…even if everyone knows Ebony is superior,” he added under his breath.

Gladio made a valiant effort to not laugh.  A snort came out anyway.  _Like free coffee is gonna change that Prompto’s not actually invited._ “Dark roast is fine by me – and I hear the king has a weakness for pepper mochas, if they have the seasoning.”

“Pepper mochas?  Hmm.  Wouldn’t have been my first guess,” Ignis said.  “Anyway, we’ll be there in time for the conference.  Just, _please_ try to get Noct to speak to his father about this beforehand.  I told Prompto he’d already done so, and I’d hate to see the fallout of a misunderstanding.”

“I’ll do what I can.  Later,” Gladio said before hanging up, giving Noct _the look._ The one that usually pissed him off just enough for him to actually do something.  “Iggy’s got a task for you.”

“What?” Noct groaned, already on the defensive.

“Don’t give me that look, you know you gotta do it,” Gladio said.  “Imagine this – Prompto shows up late with Stargil, all big eyes and nervous smile, and Cor or whoever else _immediately_ kicks him out because he doesn’t have permission to be there.  You want that?”

Noct sighed, standing up.  “No,” he admitted.  “I just…”

“Noct, I say this because I care.  You’re a mess,” Gladio said, way beyond trying not to be harsh.  “Just be honest.  ‘Dad, I asked Prompto to come because I want him nearby.’  Hell, you could even be _more_ honest and say you like him.  There.  It’s not hard.”

Noct looked at him like he’d just let forty frogs loose in the room.  “Gladio, no offense, but I don’t know if you get it.”

“No, I don’t know if _you_ get it,” Gladio said.  “Just get the meeting taken care of, okay?  You can think about all that other stuff later.”

“…O _kay_ …” Noct said, running a hand through his bangs.  “Can I be done ‘training,’ then?”

Gladio shrugged and picked his jacket up off the floor.  “Fine, but if you don’t get the meeting crap sorted out, you’re doing twice the drills for the next month.”   _The price of denial._

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Noct said, walking away.  “See you later.”

The prince’s sworn shield stood there for a moment, exasperated.  Noctis was good at a lot of things, but dealing with feelings wasn’t one of them.  _He’s still got a long way to go_ , Ignis had said the last time they’d gone out.  Damn right.  Gladio wasn’t sure how much longer he could deal with watching Noct tiptoe around the issue, and while half of him though _Noctis is a big boy, he can take care of himself_ , the other half knew the prince might never figure things out without a little push.  And honestly, it was embarrassing to watch him be so _obvious_ and so obtuse at the same time.  What’s more, Gladio would be beyond happy if the next date he went on was filled with conversation about things other than—

 _Whatever_.  They had to deal with the Niffs first.  Gladio’s stomached growled, and he fished his wallet out of his back pocket.  _Better deal with some food first, too._

 

\---------------------------------

 

Prompto wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting a royal strategy meeting to be like, but he was pretty sure they were supposed to be _bigger_.

Ignis held the door open for him, and Prompto carefully brought all the drinks inside, setting both cartons on the table.  There wasn’t anyone there except Gladio, Cor, Noctis, and… _gulp,_ the king.  “Your Majesty,” Prompto said, frantically searching for the pepper mocha Ignis had told him to order.

“Prompto,” Regis said, holding out a hand.  Prompto shook it, hoping the king couldn’t smell fear.  “Nice to finally meet you.  Take a seat.”

“Dad, you’re scaring him,” Noct said with a laugh, patting the seat next to him.  Prompto took it gratefully, taking a swig of his own macchiato like it would actually calm him down.  _If only._

While he was panicking in his corner, everyone else seemed to be getting on with business.  “Is it the cape?  The beard, maybe?” Regis said with a hint of a laugh.  “Don’t be nervous, Prompto.  At least, not yet.”

That was weird enough to distract him from the anxiety.  _Not yet?  What…what the heck does that even mean?_ Prompto looked at Noct, who’d put on his best poker face.  “Um…okay.  Thanks for having me over, Noct.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Noct said, exchanging a look with the king that Prompto could only describe as pleading.  “It’s…good to have you over.”

“Your Majesty, we should get to the matter at hand,” Cor intervened, setting a stack of papers on the table.  “About the Niffs: if we act now, I believe—”

“Whatever you have planned, it won’t be possible,” Regis said, taking a sip of his mocha and nodding.  _I did good,_ Prompto thought.“Why do you think I only invited the few of you?  The kingsglaive, the military, the hunters – all out of the question.  The chancellor may have _said_ he’d be implementing security measures at the end of the week, but I just got word from the First Secretary that they’ve already closed the northern borders.”

“…Closed, sir?” Cor said.  “That shouldn’t be a problem for a stealth op.”

“ _Completely_ closed,” Regis said.  “As in, only their troopers can get in and out.  We can’t even go by air, since they’ve given the order to shoot down all non-magitek operated vessels.  So I suggest we follow his lead – strengthen our defenses in case they decide to come knocking.  Though I doubt Izunia will take any actions until after the emperor has passed.  If he plans to hold his office, anyhow.”

 _Only M.T.s can get in and out._ Prompto rubbed his wristband and closed his eyes for a moment.  _Yes, um, Your Majesty?  I don’t know if this changes your plans at all, but, haha, one of those M.T.s you’re talking about?  Happens to be sitting at this very table.  Bet you’ll never guess who it is._

“May I ask what you had in mind, then?” Cor asked, dipping a finger in the tea Prompto had ordered for him before crinkling his nose ever-so-slightly.  _Too hot still, I guess._   “If we can’t deploy any of the kingsglaive…”

“Iedolas’s demise is, without a doubt, an inside job,” Regis said.  “And if I had to place bets, I’d say it’s Izunia who’s behind it.  That man’s got a tower of secrets that goes deeper than Costlemark.”

“So…we need a way to take him out, then,” Noct said, leaning back in his chair.  “And to do that, we need a way to get into the empire.”

An obvious statement, but important enough.  “Precisely,” Regis said with a nod.  “The trick is, how to get in?  While we can’t get into the empire from here, it may still be possible to enter Accordo.”

Gladio shook his head.  “Even if we _could_ get someone into Altissia, what then?  The route to Cartanica would still be blocked off.”

Everyone was silent for a long moment, and Prompto twiddled his thumbs under the table.  He didn’t have anything to offer the conversation other than a _really_ poorly-timed confession, and, well, it’s not like anyone would want his help anyway.

The silence was interrupted by Gladio’s phone going off again, and he checked the screen with a groan before shutting off.  “Sorry about that – Iris.”

 _Hey, I think I know that band._ The rest of the song kept going in his head, and Prompto couldn’t keep himself from dancing a little bit in his seat.  Good music was good.

“This band’s on tour right now, right?” Noct asked, watching Prompto.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t get any tickets for their Crown City dates,” Prompto answered with the slightest pout.  “Still bitter about that.”

“Do you think…?” Ignis started, before shaking his head.  “Never mind.”

“What is it?” Gladio asked.

Ignis adjusted his glasses.  “Prompto, do you know it they’re touring the empire as well?”

“I know they were _planning_ to, but…hmm, let me check their Thunderoc.”  Prompto opened the app and scrolled down, looking for any news about the band.  _There._ “Yep.  And apparently, they got clearance to finish the tour, even with the borders closed to the general public.  Don’t know how they managed to pull strings like that, but wow.”

A moment passed, and Noctis leaned forward across the table.  “Dad, you’re not seriously thinking about asking that random band to do our dirty work…right?”  Another moment.  “… _Dad?”_

Regis held up a finger, deep in thought.  His other hand drummed on the table, and Prompto watched, zoning out.  The silence seemed to last an age, and Regis finally confirmed something to himself, folding his hands together.  “Prompto, do you sing?”

Reality _clearly_ wasn’t a thing anymore.  Or maybe his hearing had very suddenly gone whack.  Prompto cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow.  “…With all due respect, _what_?”

“I second Prompto,” Noct said without hesitation.

“Me too,” Cor grumbled, adding something out of a flask to his coffee.  More proof of reality breaking.

Gladio snapped his fingers, drawing attention to his side of the table.  “No, I…I think I get where this is going,” he said.  “So, how ‘bout it, Prompto?  Can you sing?”

“I… _guess_?” he said with a shrug.  “I mean, I sing along with the radio sometimes, and in the shower.  It’s nothing special.”

“Okay, but I’ve heard you in the car.  You’re pretty good,” Noct said, and Prompto felt a rush of warmth.  A compliment from Noct…

“So Prompto can sing.  Do you play any instruments?” Regis asked.

A much more sensible question, in his opinion.  “Actually, yeah.  I have this old guitar that I fiddle around with sometimes and – wait.  This can’t be going where I think it’s going,” Prompto said.  Scratch what he thought earlier about no one wanting his help.  But this?  “ _Seriously_?”

“There’s more,” Regis said.  “I know Ignis plays piano, and very well at that – I’ve overheard him in the music room enough times to know.  And there was that time someone emailed all the ministers a video of Gladio drumming.”

Gladio raised his eyebrows.  “Come on, that was after five beers.  Does that even qualify as music?”

Regis nodded and looked at his son, searching for something.  “Noctis.  Help us out here.”

“I don’t play any instruments.  You guys all know that,” Noct said, with half a nervous smile.

Prompto huffed.  “Puh- _lease_.  As far as the radio goes – you sing along as much as I do, and you’re not half bad.  And I could totally teach you to play bass.”

There was a groan from the far end of the table – Cor, rubbing his temples.  “I…hold on.  So you won’t send in the kingsglaive, or the hunters, or my men, or _anyone with actual stealth or combat experience._ But you’ll send in a bunch of kids disguised as musicians.”

“It would give us the element of surprise,” Ignis noted, “though I do agree with the marshal.  It would be much safer to send in qualified fighters.”

Regis rolled his shoulders, watching the group.  “I know that look, Noct.  What is it?”

“I know you well enough to know that nothing’s going to change your mind at this point,” Noct said, leaning back in his chair.  “But shouldn’t we at least talk about the pros and cons?”

“Con: none of you have what it takes to pull off an assassination,” Cor said plainly.  _That’s true._

“I mean…becoming a popular band is hard enough without the whole thing just being a ruse for murdering the chancellor.”

“I’m the crown prince.”

It went on for several minutes, with everyone more or less listing _everything that could possibly go wrong,_ and Prompto felt more than a little wary of the king’s…mischievous expression.

When the complaints died down, Regis took out a notepad and slid it over to Ignis, who took out a pen.  _Oh boy._ “Both the issues with combat readiness and musical skill can be solved with training and practice.  PR shouldn’t be an issue – as long as there’s enough honest hard work put in, a little boost from royal-affiliated publications shouldn’t look suspicious.  And there’s always social media.  Stage names are obviously a must, and we can get new IDs and passports for each one of you…excluding Prompto.  If anyone pries, they’ll be likely to look into the frontman’s history first, and since he has no official ties to the crown, there shouldn’t be any red flags.”

Prompto gulped again.  _No red flags, huh?_

Regis finished off his pepper mocha before continuing.   “We’ll obviously start the band off as a local thing, and once you gain enough of a reputation, we can branch out to the provinces.  And about Noct – you all seem to forget that there haven’t been any images of my son linked to the press for _ages._ It was…”

“Eight years ago,” Noct offered.

“Yes, eight years ago,” Regis said.  “So I strongly doubt everyone will recognize him – and behind the stage lights and pseudonym, you’d be surprised how many people can fall for a ruse.”

Ignis had been keeping up with Regis’s spiel almost perfectly, and set down the pen.  “Your Majesty, what about the time frame?  What if things take a sudden turn south?”

Regis was unmoved.  “Then we have the kingsglaive, and the hunters, and everyone else Cor would much rather deploy.”

There were slow nods across the table, and Cor shook his head.  “With all due respect, your majesty, I still don’t think this is the best plan, or even a passably good one.  What advantage would this possibly have over…anything else, really?”

“Well, unlike all those other things, we haven’t tried this before,” Regis said.  “And…I think it’s safe to say that no matter how smart he may be, Izunia will _never_ see this coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm already working on the next update (a welcome change from the past four months, right??) and it's probably gonna have some fun things like the boys setting up the band's social media, Noctis's POV, maybe a bit of Luna's as well if I get some outlining done, etc.


	2. Twelve Bad Ideas and a Bottle of White (The Squad that Roasts Together, Stays Together)

“Lady Lunafreya, you’re getting a call from the imperial capital,” the attendant said, holding the landline in one hand and her memo pad in the other.  “Again.”

“I know who it is,” Luna said, not looking away from her laptop screen.  _Getting this information to the doctors at St. Rosa’s is far more important._  “Let it go to voicemail, please.”

The attendant began a stuttered sentence about ‘ _please consider answering this time, my lady’_ before the measured irritation of her brother’s voice interrupted.  “Luna.”

“Ravus, I know what I’m doing,” she said, sending the email to St. Rosa’s chief supervisor.  _If they hadn’t figured it out already, that should help them prolong Iedolas’s life.  Every hour counts._   “I won’t take any calls from the chancellor for the time being.”

“He’s a very powerful man, and I fear what may happen if—”

Luna stood up, smoothing down the skirt of her dress.  “And _I_ fear what may happen if he is simply allowed to continue doing…whatever he’s doing.”  _Obtaining the world’s crystals is an obvious enough goal, but why murder the emperor?  What’s the advantage in that?  He was already more or less in complete control of the empire already…_

“You don’t know?”  Ravus paused for a moment.   _Like you do, either._  “If the gods haven’t given you any guidance on this matter, then it’s even more important that…”

As much as Luna valued her brother’s opinion, right now it was…for lack of a better term, bullshit.  Whether she had communed with the gods on this matter or not was of no consequence.  It was the best-kept secret of every Oracle in history – the gods rarely gave guidance.  They usually either ignored her pleas, or simply refused to do anything.  After the fourth time Titan told her the story of Bahamut’s last night as an ‘active member of the godhood’ (a wild party with some of the early Lucis Caelums, and apparently the reason the great crystal was split all those centuries ago), Luna had had enough.  If the gods wouldn’t help her cause, she’d succeed on her own.

So instead of doing what many thought she should, she simply did what she could.  Bend political matters in the direction of peace.  Heal the sick and wounded – and thanks to the magitek movement, there weren’t too many of either, making the work simple.  All in all, even with the empire a domineering presence, the shadow she cast was long – but not long enough to achieve her goals.  At least not now that the emperor was dying.  _I need to travel again.  I need to leave Tenebrae._ “Ravus.”

“So it would be best if……….yes?”

“I appreciate your counsel, I really do.  But you work for Ardyn – I work for the people,” Luna said, with the sort of conviction she usually reserved for tougher opponents than her brother.  “I will do whatever I must to ensure the safety and prosperity of the world’s citizens, and right now, that does _not_ include doing whatever pointless task Ardyn Izunia has for me.  So I’d rather not acknowledge his request, at least for the time being.”

Ravus crossed his arms, though his expression told her he respected her decision.  “Very well.  But…there’s something else I should tell you.  The chancellor is willing to grant you freedom of movement if you cooperate with his, in my opinion, very reasonable requests.”

 _I’m..._ Luna didn’t exactly make an effort to be unpredictable, but she was sick and tired of Izunia always being one step ahead.  Having the advantage of surprise – even just once – could be the difference between ending the war and ending the world, and Luna couldn’t afford to stumble.  _I don’t like it.  I don’t like that he knows I wish to leave.  I don’t trust him, and still…it would be better to leave here without the imperial army at my heels._ “…Give me time.  I’ll consider it,” Luna said, the words tasting bitter in her mouth.

“Thank you,” Ravus said, his relief plain in his voice.  “I know how you feel, but…wars are not won through stubborn righteousness.  Compromises must be made.”

Luna closed her eyes, listening to her brother’s footsteps as he left the room.  It was only a few years ago that Ravus had been kinder, softer, and…in a way, wiser.  Compromises had to be made, yes, but Luna felt like Ravus was making the wrong compromises.  Dangerous compromises.  _I wish we could truly be brother and sister again, and not First Son and Daughter of the messiest political atmosphere in history._   She forced her mind to move past it.  There wasn’t anything to gain from mourning times gone by.  _And you never know – maybe things will change.  Maybe Ravus will get to be young and free again._

_Maybe I will, too._

Several hours and several emails later, the phone rang again.  It was Ardyn.  She picked up.

 

\---------------------------------

 

Noctis took the popcorn out of the microwave and plopped down on the floor, bowl in his lap.  Nothing like some good microwave popcorn to set the mood, and Gladio always made sure Ignis’s kitchen was fully stocked with the stuff.  “Specs, where’s the salt?”

“Cabinet above the sink, a bit to the right,” Ignis said, placing a rag where Noctis was sitting once he got up.   _It’s not like I’m gonna get popcorn all in the carpet, Iggy._  “Do be careful not to spill it.”

Prompto was already standing by the sink when he got there, arms crossed and popcorn salt on the counter.  “Hey-hey!”

“Hey?”  Noctis knew it was coming as soon as Prompto opened his hand, soon enough to close his eyes in time – but not soon enough to _completely_ avoid the spray of popcorn salt.  He exhaled, trying to get it out of his nose.  “Whyyyy, Prompto.. _._ ”

“Just blowin’ you a kiss, dude,” Prompto said, ruffling his hair with the salt-covered hand before moving to sit down between Ignis and Gladio.

As difficult as it was, Noctis managed to push the mental image of Prompto giving him an actual kiss from his mind, taking a seat with the others after he dusted himself off.  “Damn, I forgot the salt,” he said, standing right back up again.  _And damn, I’m thinking about kissing him again…fuck.  Stop it.  Stop thinking about it.  Inner Noct, I order you to cut out the Prompto fantasies.  Right now.  Please._

It’d been a week since the, hrm, _strategy conference_ , and Noctis had absolutely no idea what any of them were doing (himself least of all, but he was kind of a human disaster even under normal circumstances).  He’d only seen Ignis a few times, and during each of those, his friend and advisor basically refused to talk about the band…assassin squad…thing.  Gladio had been gone since pretty much the second that meeting ended, ‘running errands with Iris’ and the like.  Yeah, right.  Noctis suspected that Iris was trying to get herself more involved with the band than she really needed to be.  _It’d be just like her, though._

Meanwhile, Prompto had hauled a bag and two guitar cases into Noct’s place that night and made good on his promise to teach Noct to play bass.  Despite being close for _years,_ Noct had never known his best friend was as good at music as he was – it made him wonder if there were other things he didn’t know, too.  _Maybe…whatever I’m feeling…maybe he feels it, too.  I just…don’t know what I want.  I can’t put it in words, except for maybe ‘more.’  And ‘kissing.’  But I shouldn’t get my hopes up…he seems happy enough with what we have.  I should be, too._

Noctis looked at his left hand, frowning at the tender spots on the tips of his fingers – calluses Prompto said were normal.  That they’d go away once he had some skill and a lot of practice under his belt.  He thought of Prompto, glasses in place of his too-old contacts (Prompto didn’t like how they made his face look, but Noctis could’ve looked all day), and the warmth of Prompto’s hands over his, showing him how to follow a tab—

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Prompto said, tapping the floor with his foot.  He cleared his throat to lower his voice, straightening his back for dramatic effect.  “And so begins…the first official rehearsal of – Sgt. Prompto’s Lonely Hearts Club Band!”

Gladio huffed.  “We are _not_ calling it that.”

“And why not, big guy?” Prompto asked, crossing his arms.  “It’s unique.  It’s accurate.  It’s an iconic name in the making.  I can sense it.”

Ignis shook his head.  “Unique, yes.  I don’t quite see what you mean by _accurate_ , though…”

“Well, we’re all single.  And this is kind of a club, right?” Prompto looked at Noctis for help, and he shook his head. 

 _Gods.  Does he really not...?  It’s been ages since they started dating._ Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio looked at each other in semi-disbelief.  Noctis accepted he’d have to break the news and sighed.  _Even if I_ did _try to talk about…feelings…he probably wouldn’t have a clue what I mean._ “Prompto, you _do_ know they’re…you know…right?”

“What?  You two?  No way,” Prompto said, though the confidence in his voice lessened at the looks on all their faces.  “… _Yes_ way?  What the hell, guys!  No one told me!”

Ignis raised his eyebrows.  “We haven’t exactly been hiding.”

“That oblivious, huh?” Gladio said, swiping the popcorn from Noct.  “Explains a lot.”

The pointed look in his direction didn’t go unnoticed, and Noctis pouted.  _I don’t know.  I don’t know what to do._

Prompto shrugged off his mistake, determined to get back on track.  “Okay, Gladio.  What do _you_ want to call the band, then?” he asked, swiping the popcorn from the larger man.

“Not my department, hotshot.”

“Then what _is_ your department, hmm?”

“Guys, let’s at least _try_ to focus here,” Noctis said, much to Ignis’s visible relief.  “Let’s…hell, I don’t know.  Go around in a circle and brainstorm.  No skipping.”  They all looked at each other for maybe thirty seconds, and Noctis rubbed his temple.  “Seriously?  You guys are gonna make me go first?  Okay.  Noct and the Bling Kings.”

“Oh, what the _hell,_ that’s even worse.  Hmm…Cup Froodles,” Gladio offered.

“You’re one to talk,” Noct countered.  “How about Cup Toodles since _no one_ is going to listen a band named after pasta.”

Ignis held a hand out while he thought, eyebrows drawn together.  “What about The Blue Mages?”

“I think that one’s been done before,” Prompto said, biting his lip in concentration.  “Uh…Call Out Roy?”

“You’re killin’ me, Blondie,” Noct said, turning around to face the window.  His reflection looked back at him with exasperated eyes, and snow was flurrying outside.  “My turn again…Jukebox Ice?”

“Hey, that one’s actually pretty neat,” Prompto said.  “Jukebox Ice?  Anyone?”

“I got another idea,” Gladio said, clearly not on board with Jukebox Ice.  “The Windows.”

Ignis turned away from Gladio, a sure sign he was trying not to laugh.  “Ah yes, the Cup Froodles are a sure win in this year’s tournament: Four Windows Down, bottom of the ninth...”

“And six to go.  That one’s stupid.  Sorry, big guy,” Prompto said dismissively.  “Hmm…Grand Punk Railroad?”

“That would’ve been cool… _forty years_ ago,” Gladio said.  “Definitely not now.”

“Yeah, I think Dad listens to a band with a similar name,” Noct said.  _Grand…Trunk?  Bunk?  Funk?  I don’t know._

“Wait, I think I know which one you’re talking about,” Prompto said, leaning forward.  He hummed for a little bit.  “I’m ge-tting clo-ser to my ho-oooooome.  That band, right?”

 _Gods, Dad used to play that song on loop for hours._ Noctis nodded.  “That’s the one.  Next, then…how about Pretend Unicorns?”

“Noct, _please_.”  Ignis took the popcorn from Prompto (who’d had it for way longer than qualified as his turn) and stuffed a whole handful into his mouth.  Classy.  “Cnn shmmone pss mm th Bnnora White?”

“I gotchu,” Gladio said, standing up and opening Ignis’s wine cabinet.  “Anyone else up for some wine?”

“Me, me!” Prompto said with an eager smile.  “Hey – Banora White!  That might make a good band name.”

“I dunno.  Doesn’t seem very _us_ ,” Gladio said, handing a glass to Ignis, who took a sip and gave him the thumbs-up.  “Like…I don’t know.  I feel like someone else could make better use of it.”

Noctis huffed.  “You’re shooting down everyone’s ideas and all you’ve had to offer are a Cup Noodles ad and _windows_.”

“Again, my job’s to protect you – creativity’s _not_ my department,” Gladio said, pouring a glass of the Banora White for himself.  “So.  We’re stuck.”

“We can always go back to Sgt. Prompto’s—”

“ _No_ ,” the rest of them said in unison.  “If nothing else, that name’s way too long,” Noctis said.  “No one’d remember it.”

“Noct Gar and the Bad Weeds?” Prompto offered.

“Oh my gods, that’s a _terrible_ name,” a female voice said, and Noctis turned to the door to see none other than Iris, with two bags full of…ramen.  _Gladio, please._ “What’s up, guys?”

Prompto patted the space next to him for Iris to take, which she did happily.  “Just arguing over what to name the band,” he said, passing a cup to Gladio.

“G-G-G-Gladdy and the Nets,” Noct offered.

“Are all the choices as bad as that one?” Iris asked with a laugh.  “Because… _yikes._ I mean, this whole situation is kind of yikes.  But…”

The four of them nodded tiredly, and after a bit of an argument, they listed off what choices they remembered for Iris to give input.  She laughed at most of them (“seriously, guys?  My friend’s hamster could come up with better names”), but a few of them she said were alright, including Jukebox Ice and…Sgt. Prompto’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

“I can actually see that one working,” Iris said.  “It’s definitely kind of weird – it won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but then you’ll stand out more, right?  I’d consider it.”

 _She’s…got a point._ Noctis wasn’t sure how many glasses of the Banora white it took for him to get on board with the name, but by the end of the night, Iris had more or less become their de facto manager and made them a new Thunderoc account under the handle @lonelyheartsclubband (and driven Noct and Prompto back to his place, as they were both too plastered to drive).  They hadn’t made _that_ much progress – they hadn’t even decided on their stage names yet – but it was a start.

 

\---------------------------------

 

Ardyn’s day so far had been…a smashing success, so to speak.

Things hadn’t gone perfectly according to plan, but when did they ever?  It was certainly good _enough_.  The Oracle would leave her ancestral home once Iedolas passed and travel the world at her leisure until the transition of power was complete – at which point she would journey to Gralea, and act as an ambassador of the peace.  If nothing else, having the Oracle as a puppet of diplomacy would certainly help matters go more smoothly.  _And if she refuses to cooperate down the road, I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve._

So, all in all, a smashing success.  Ardyn was so pleased by this turn of events that he decided he’d like to hire a biographer.

The interviewee with him now wasn’t the one, he could tell already.  She was wary, almost disdainful, and a bit too much like Lady Lunafreya for his taste.  He’d rather only have one insufferable, self-righteous woman around at a time, thank you very much.

But Ardyn was a polite man if nothing else, and finished interviewing her with all the class and graciousness she surely wasn’t expecting.  “Thank you for your time, Chancellor,” she said afterwards, taking the door.  _She sounds defeated.  Good._

“Brandon, send the next one in,” he said, picking a speck of dirt under his thumbnail.

The young man who entered his office walked in shoes that were much too big for his feet, but the eager look he wore on his face and the wonderful hat he wore on his head more than made up for it.  “Chancellor Izunia, sir, I’m—”

“The reporter from last week, yes?  I remember you – a bit hesitant, but you spoke very deliberately,” Ardyn said, motioning for him to sit down.  It was impulsive, but he wanted to hire this young man on the spot.   _I think I’ll indulge myself today – though it’d be best to go through the usual formalities first._  “Let’s begin with the obvious.  Your name, please?”

The young man looked almost _perplexed_ for a moment, which should have thrown Ardyn off, if it weren’t for the fact that he could empathize with such perplexed-ness.  He forgot his own name on occasion – he’d had quite a few over the centuries.  Though the young man certainly hadn’t lived that long – he didn’t look a day over sixteen, if Ardyn had to guess.

All that thinking, and the young man still hadn’t answered.  Ardyn cleared his throat.  “Your name?”

“Oh – sorry,” the young man said, grimacing.  “It’s Ross – uh, A. Ross.”

Ardyn smiled.  A fine name, if a bit plain.  Perfect for a biographer.  “Does the A stand for anything, A. Ross?”

“Uh, not really.  My first name’s kind of embarrassing, so I usually just abbreviate it.  Like that.  A. Ross – that’s my name, alright!  Though just ‘Ross’ is fine.”

 _The Life and Achievements of Ardyn Izunia, written by A. Ross.  That has quite the nice ring to it._ “Where are you from, Ross?”

“I’ve traveled a lot, but I’ve lived here with some friends for the past few years,” Ross answered, in a much timelier manner than before.  “It’s a nice city.”

“That compliment would be better used on the Minister of Urban Planning, but yes, it is a rather nice city,” Ardyn said with a gracious smile.  “Now for the money question – why should _you_ be the one to write my biography?  There have been several interviewees so far, so I do have plenty of options.”

Ross gave a flattering and lengthy answer that he had clearly rehearsed beforehand, including such gems as ‘ _there’s no worthier subject of a good biography_ ,’ ‘ _your political career will go down in history,’_ and his personal favorite: ‘ _the gods themselves will bend before your will.’_

It was excessive, to say the least, but Ardyn liked it.  Ideally, the gods _would_ bend before his will.  One day, perhaps.  “I’ve heard enough.  You’re hired, Ross.”

“ _Yes_!” Ross said, punching the air.  “When…when do I start?”

“The writing, I leave to you,” Ardyn said.  “Otherwise, I think it would be very _illuminating_ if you worked with my intern, Brandon, for a while.  He can refer you to plenty of good sources about my life and career, and is also in charge of my schedule – and payroll, so talk to him about your wages.”

“No problem!” Ross said, standing up.  “I won’t let you down, sir!”

 _How amusing,_ Ardyn thought.  _A biography of a small part of my life, and the one my dear brother would have been least proud of.   I should make an official announcement._ He opened up his Thunderoc and composed the update.  A successful day, indeed.

 

\--------------------------------- 

 

Elsewhere in Gralea, a young woman and her faithful walkie-talkie took a break from work to party in the cellar.

“Hey – R-double-K here.  Anyone logged in?  Hello?”  She held the modified walkie-talkie closer to her ears – no one else ever figured out how to use them properly, and their voices always came through muffled and static-y.  It annoyed her to no end, but what was a girl to do?  It wasn’t like she could just mess with their stuff out in the open without getting reported.  _And lose months of progress?  No thanks._

A loud tapping sound forced her to move the device back where it was.  “R-single-K here.  Where’s Captain S?  I’ve been looking for him all afternoon.  Is he back at the studio?”

“I heard he was interviewing for Operation Malbodoom,” a female voice said, much clearer.  “About time, too…”

 _Ooooh!_ “Dr. P is in the house!”  R-double-K punched the air, only to meet the ceiling of the cellar instead.  _Ouch…_

“Stop that,” Dr. P said plainly.  “And no, I haven’t seen Captain S.  Considering he hasn’t come back yet, there’s a good chance he got the job.”

“Guess what, guys!?  I got the job!” someone shouted (definitely Captain S, as he was the only one who’d never learned the art of whispering).  His voice was distorted by… _radio waves, most likely_.  _If he’s still near the capitol building, there’s gotta be a ton of interference._  

R-double-K couldn’t help but be worried that Captain S was blowing all of their cover – even if he was terrible at discretion on the best of days, it would be _especially_ horrific…disastrous…disasterrific…if the authorities picked up on their activities now.  _Though I guess talking about getting a job is harmless enough, assuming he’s holding his walkie-talkie like a phone._   “He said he knew I was the one as soon as I walked in!” Captain S added.

“Ugh, stop making it sound like you’re _dating_ him,” R-double-K said.  “You’re gonna make your boyfriend jealous.”

“More like seriously grossed out,” R-single-K grumbled.  “I get that you need to kiss some ass to keep the job…but…”

“Don’t _actually_ kiss his ass.  Please,” Dr. P finished.  “I don’t need that mental image.”

“Yuck, _no thanks_ ,” Captain S said.  “So…I forgot.  What is it that I’m supposed to do again?”

R-double-K heard Dr. P sigh on her end and giggled.  “We told you, like, yesterday,” she said, twirling her hair in her free hand.  “And you already forgot?”

“Maybe R-single-K went a little too hard last night,” Dr. P said plainly.  The image of her saying that with a straight face was too much, and the rest of them over in laughter – at least, R-double-K _imagined_ they’d be doubling over if they were together in person.

“Why am I the butt of every joke…” R-single-K said after a moment.  “Can’t we make fun of someone else for a change?”

“Squad that roasts together, stays together!” R-double-K and Dr. P said in unison.  _And don’t you forget it, fruitcake boy._

R-double-K peeped through the cellar door to make sure there weren’t any eavesdroppers before speaking.  _No one’s looking for me yet.  Good._   “Dr. P will stop making fun of you guys when you stop making it so _easy._ That’s what you were gonna say, right, babe?”

“…Right,” Dr. P said, only sounding a little flustered by R-double-K’s wording.  _Easin’ her into it.  Slowly._

“Nobody’s answered my question,” Captain S whined.  “Help?  Anyone?  Operation Malbodoom?”

“Gods, S…you’re not writing _one_ biography, you’re writing _two_ ,” R-single-K said.  “The first one is whatever load of crap he tells you to write, and the second one is the truth.”

“The stone-cold truth,” R-double-K added.  “The deepest-buried secrets.  The dirtiest of the dirt.”

“The…dirt?” Captain S asked.  “I’m writing dirt?”

“You’re muckraking,” Dr. P clarified.  “We need more evidence before we can really _do_ anything, but…”

“Sailor T was supposed to be on that,” R-single-K said.  “Haven’t heard from him in a while, though.”

“Last thing I heard from Sailor Y was that he went missing,” R-double-K said.  “Though I guess we’ve all ‘gone missing’ at some point, you know?  So you never know.”

“He’s probably fine.  Just in hiding…or something,” Captain S said.  “And Sailor Y will find him for sure, no doubt about it.”

“Point being, we’ve got no news from Altissia,” Dr. P said.  “So for now, Captain S, just do what the man asks.  It’d suck if you lost the job or blew your cover right as we got something incriminating.”

“Don’t worry, I’m the _master_ of stealth,” Captain S said, with all the seriousness he could muster.  “That coffee-filter-collared douchecanoe is never gonna suspect a thing.”

“Yeah, right.  You’re less subtle than a cow in a coffee shop,” R-single-K said.  “But I love you anyway.”

“Aww, you two are so sweet,” R-double-K said teasingly.  “For real, though.  Just try not to think about us while you’re at work, okay?  It helps.”  _We all have enough to hide without constantly thinking about the punishment for treason.  It’s just…easier that way, even if it feels irresponsible._

“I’ll try,” Captain S said.  “So…this is kind of unrelated, but I got a message from Lady I today.”

R-double-K jumped in surprise, banging her head on the ceiling.  _I should really start wearing a helmet in here._ “Lady I, seriously?!  How is she?  It’s been _months_.”

Their little network only had a few contacts from outside the empire, and for safety’s sake, they shared much less information with them than most members – so all R-double-K really _knew_ about Lady I was that she was still in high school and lived somewhere in Lucis.  But the few times they’d talked, Lady I was…well, R-double-K would be _ecstatic_ if she could move to Gralea and fully join their cause after she graduated.  Assuming the borders were open again by then.

“She says things are business as usual, though her dad’s job is getting more stressful,” Captain S said.  “I hope they’re alright…”

“Life can be rough sometimes,” R-double-K said.  “Pop’s had trouble keeping the business going before, and ‘stressful’ doesn’t even _begin_ to describe what that was like.”

“Back to Lady I…she also has a lead for us!” Captain S said excitedly.  “She said there’s an up-and-coming band that could use housing when they get to Gralea.”

 _Random._ “That sounds kind of…suspicious,” Dr. P said.  “I mean, I guess any band starts with the hope that they’ll go on a world tour.  But why Gralea, specifically?  It’s not exactly the land of the free out here.  And ‘when’ they get here?  There are never guarantees in that industry.”

“Maybe they’re just really confident,” R-double-K said.  “Maybe they’ve got the bop of the millennium on its way.”

“Uh, no.  In my opinion…” R-single-K said, “…Lady I must think they can help us somehow.”

“Hmm…you think they have the dirt we need?” R-double-K asked.  “I _guess_ they probably have more open access to information in Lucis than we do here.  But…if they knew that coffee-filter-collared douchecanoe was, like, a gaggle of daemons in a trench coat, don’t you think the Lucian authorities would’ve done something by now?”

“We’ll never know if we don’t say yes!” Captain S said.  “I vote we do it.”

“Hmm…and if it turns out they don’t know anything, the rent can be helping us with missions,” Dr. P said.  “I…I’m cool with this.  For now.”

“It’s on, then,” R-double-K said.  “Tell her, ‘Lady I, we won’t let you down!’”

“You got it!” Captain S said.  “Meeting adjourned?  See you guys later.”

“Over and out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being much less focused on the boys than I'd planned, but I wanted to bring back the fanboy reporter as well as introduce Luna (and those "unidentified" rebels......hehehe......they'll be back).
> 
> Chapter 3 will definitely be mostly Chocobros - they (meaning Iris) will hire a songwriter, and they'll actually start recording! Or at least try to, anyhow. They also don't have any stage techs......so......gee whiz......I wonder who Regis would _possibly_ call in a favor from for that. You'll just have to wait until I update, which should be soon - not as soon as this update, since it's not the weekend anymore. But soon. And sooner if you guys keep talking to me like you have been :p


	3. Super √ Mega √ Foxy √ Awesome √ Hot √

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse for being late: I outlined everything. There's now a whole Excel workbook of FFXV boyband AU sitting on my hard drive. (Downside of this, I had to turn in some code in the past week and didn't want to open a second workbook, so one of my T.A.'s had to read "data3.3 = read.csv("e3.3_fromsgtprompto.csv",header=TRUE)" with her own eyes.)
> 
> Also, while I was outlining, I realized that Ardyn's haircut is........exactly what I wanted my hair to look like when I was thirteen. This has changed me.

Most of the people in Prompto’s life seemed pretty happy with the news that he was joining a band – his closest friends were, well, _part_ of the band, but Prompto’s social circle was a little wider than that.  Hell, by some standards, homeboy _got around_.

His parents took a few days to call back, and, as usual, the signal was really weak.  Prompto wrote down everything they said so he could parse through it later, marking all the words that he wasn’t sure he heard right.  It was a weird enough way to communicate that Prompto had never really told the guys about it, but he was long used to it.  No point in wasting his energy wondering where they were (and when they’d be back, and when they’d talk about the marks on his wrist, and a hundred other questions), so it didn’t concern him too much.  But that didn’t stop him from being happy when they _did_ call back, excited that he was doing something fun with his time.

Prompto’s manager wasn’t nearly as happy.  ‘ _You’re our best troubleshooter,’_ she’d said, practically begging him to stay.  ‘ _I know you’re already one of the assistant managers, but I’ll pull some strings with corporate to get you a raise.  Whatever it takes.’_ Prompto really appreciated the offer – it was a nice job, with flexible hours and decent wages, but royal missions were royal missions (though he didn’t phrase it quite like that).  He promised he’d be back, though it’d be at least a few months, and that was good enough for her.

Then there were the old crowd from school.  It had been a few years since he’d talked to anyone on the track team, with most of them having gone off to the sports-centric university on the other side of town, but the group chat blew up as soon as one of them found the band’s Flanstagram.  ‘ _You’re gonna be killer on stage, man.  Just sing like you did on all those bus rides to Leide.  Hey, is that Noctis in the picture?  Did you guys ever get together or what?’_

Prompto was quick to tell them to keep Noct’s identity under wraps (and that no, he hadn’t made any progress on the _romance front_ ).  They agreed, but made him promise to try to get some, uh, hot dogs.  Or whatever it was Dincht wanted.  On second thought, maybe his request for Prompto to pick up some hot dogs had nothing to do with Noctis, and the guy was just hungry.  Yeah, that was more likely.

Last, but certainly not least, the underclassmen ( _seniors, they’re seniors now, why do I feel so old I’m literally twenty_ ) who were part of the photography club Prompto founded – they were so happy, they showed up at his house.  Technically uninvited, but with guac, a hotdish, and black bean brownies.  There was just one important thing missing.

“Uh, hi!  What’s up, Neha?” Prompto said, keeping his voice down to keep from waking Noct.  _Even if it’s_ …he thought, checking the clock… _already half past ten._

“Come on, you know what’s up.  I sent you that text an hour ago.  We heard you were joining a band and – Prompto, unlock your door!” Neha said, the greetings and shouts of the others echoing behind her.

 _Oh my gods, they really did it._ “You guys!  You shouldn’t have!  But, uh, I’m not there right now,” Prompto said, holding the phone in place with his shoulder as he tried to wake Noct.  _C’mon, buddy.  We gotta goooooo_.  _Gotta go meet Iris at wherever she is…_   “And I can’t get over there until, like, tonight.  Can you come back later?  Please?”

“Wait – how are you not here?  I’m looking at your car right now,” Neha said, “and Margie’s taking pictures of your car right now, and…where are you, exactly?”

Noctis chose that exact moment to sit up, rubbing his eyes in a manner that was…utterly captivating _._ Fuck.  “Man, I’m _tired_.  Can’t we go back to sleep…?” he asked, flopping back down onto the pillows.  _Of course he had to say ‘we.’_

“You’re with Noctis?!?  Oh my gods, did you – are you – Prompto, you should’ve told us!!” Neha said, voice getting shriller with every syllable.  “Um, congratulatons!  I would’ve brought more brownies!  Okay, we’ll just hang out, uh, somewhere until you guys can drive down – aahh, this is great!  You guys are great!  Love is great!”

She went on like that for a while, and after several minutes of half the things in Eos being declared ‘great,’ Prompto finally managed to end the call.  Noctis was half-dressed and doing his hair when Prompto joined him in the bathroom, contact case in hand.  _Can’t be in glasses for party pictures_.  _Or…whatever Iris has in store for us today._   “The photography club found out about the band thing,” Prompto said, putting in the left lens.  “Neha, uh, also thinks we’re dating.  Or something.”  _I wish._

Noctis was oddly silent for a moment, before finishing his hair with one final floof.  _He’s got that down to an art.  It’s, like, perfect._ His friend cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck.  “So…Prompto.  What do you do when you’ve got…feelings?  For somebody?”

The question was so unexpected – Noctis asking _him_ about this stuff?  Prompto dropped his right lens, covering up the groan with a chuckle as he fumbled around for it on the bathroom floor.  Like some sort of ironic metaphor for his love life.  Lost on the floor.  “Dude…you know I’ve got _zero_ relationship experience.”

“That doesn’t mean you’ve never had feelings for somebody.”

 _Yeah, and if you look in the mirror, you’ll see him_ , Prompto thought, washing off the lens.  “You got me there, buddy,” he said, trying to keep his voice from giving too much away.  Gotta rein it in.

Noctis, damn him, didn’t want to change the topic.  “So…?  What do you do?”

“Everyone I’ve ever liked has been, like, _way_ out of my league,” Prompto said, blinking until both lenses settled.  His face in the mirror was tired and pale, and he frowned.  “What’s there to like, anyway?”  _I guess I’m not…ugly, or terrible, but I’m nothing special._

“The shirt you’re wearing…look what it’s made of,” Noct said, pulling at the shoulder of Prompto’s t-shirt.  “ _Boyfriend_ material, that’s what.”

“Noooooct,” Prompto whined, doing his best to control his blush.  He was having a harder time with that lately.  _Boyfriend material._ It was just a joke, but still…  “Ah, about your question…I guess I’ve never really done anything about a crush.  I just…wait around, hope somebody more realistic shows up.  Hide it.”

It was the perfect time to get a text from Neha, accompanied by a photo of Margie petting the neighbors’ cat.  _‘Dincht told me you guys aren’t actually together.  What gives!?!  Prompto, your life isn’t a slow burn romance novel.’_

Prompto started typing out a response, only to get another string of messages.  ‘ _I get that it might be kind of scary.  But.  You and Noct have been /clearly/ interested in each other for so long, I don’t think he’s gonna turn you down.  See you tonight!  Oh, and that cat might’ve puked on your doormat.  Margie says she’s sorry.’_

“We’ve been…” Prompto muttered, stealing a glance Noct’s way.  He’d moved on to doing his eyeliner, too engrossed in the task to notice Prompto’s distracted state.  _Neha thinks he’s interested in…me?_

All these years, and the thought had never crossed his mind, except maybe while he was asleep.  Or doing certain other things.  _I mean, he did just kind of ask me what to do about a crush.  Out of the blue.  But it could totally be somebody else!  Maybe he’s asking for a friend!_

Prompto instinctively knew that was bullshit, that the only other people close enough to Noctis to qualify as crushes were either already dating each other or Lady Lunafreya, who was out of _everyone’s_ league, but…he wasn’t sure what do to with that information.  _I guess I’ve always been bad at social cues.  Well, why didn’t anyone tell me he liked me back sooner!?  I would’ve done something!!  Probably!!_

 _Later,_ he promised himself.

_\---------------------------------_

 

Turns out, Iris had gotten them a session at a recording studio.  Without telling anyone.  The place was apparently a hub for indie artists and producers alike, which was good for anonymity and better for creative freedom.  Not so great for actually getting famous, but…  “I didn’t even know we _had_ recording studios here,” Prompto said with wonderment.

“Of course we do,” Noctis said.  “Where do you _think_ all the other music comes from?  The moon?”

“I dunno, I’ve just never thought about it,” Prompto said, looking around before waving excitedly.  “Gladio, over here!”

Gladio and Ignis looked sharp as usual, and they sauntered over, Ignis slinging his suit jacket over his shoulders.  “So, Iris is to meet us out here in a few minutes with the…young man she found to be our producer,” Ignis said, pulling off the rock-star persona so well that Noctis was a little worried what had happened to his advisor.

 _Maybe, deep down, he’s always been ready for this.  Haha._ “Do we know anything about him?” Noct asked.  “Or his secret-keeping abilities?”

“She didn’t tell him who we were,” Ignis said, “nor will she, assuming we’ve all got our aliases ready.”

“Mine’s polished and perfected,” Prompto said, straightening up.  “Prompto Argentum, generic youth and amateur photographer!”

 _And completely oblivious_ , Noctis thought, thinking about earlier.  He’d gone almost as far as to outright admit his feelings – he even called Prompto _boyfriend material,_ but that darn beautiful friend of his still didn’t get it.  Or was pretending not to.  Both were worrying.  “Of course you’re good to go, you get to just be yourself,” Noctis added, hoping the time between his sentences didn’t seem weird.

“Noct, have you chosen a pseudonym yet?” Ignis asked.

“No,” Noct said, crossing his arms.  “Nothing fits.”  _Ha, if I’d known five years ago I could ever_ not _be Prince Noctis, I’d have a whole goddamn list of names right now._

Gladio smirked.  “I’m going by Glenn Hawke.”

Noctis couldn’t help but laugh at that.  “ _Glenn?!_ You don’t look like a Glenn.  At all.  Whatsoever.”

“I don’t have to.  I figured, if we’ll have to use our stage names in public and stuff, it might as well be something easy to remember,” Gladio said.  “They both start with a G-l.  And Hawke is a badass last name – don’t try to deny it.”

“Note it was _I_ who came up with that particular excuse,” Ignis said.  “As for you, Noct…’Nick,’ perhaps?”  Noctis frowned.  _Nick?  Seriously?_

“It’s like with Gladio – he doesn’t look like a Nick, but it’s good enough,” Prompto said.  “Nick _what_ , though?”

They debated for a few minutes before settling on ‘Callaway,’ which Noctis thought was kind of stupid.  Picking a stage name with half the letters, including the initials, of his real name seemed…irresponsible.  The stuff of conspiracy theories.  Eh, whatever.  “’Nick Callaway’ it is,” Noct said, not caring enough to offer another choice.  “What about you, Ignis?”

“Iggy Shears,” he responded without hesitation.  _Damn._

“That’s.  The most rock-star sounding name I’ve ever heard,” Prompto said.  “Which is _awesome_.”  He cleared his throat.  “Ladies and gents, so let me introduce to you, the one and only Iggy Shears…”

“…and Sgt. Prompto’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” Iris said from somewhere behind him.  Noctis turned around to see her with a fairly…interesting-looking guy on her arm.  Decked out in all denim, but with a _cape –_ and actual, literal cape – that definitely didn’t match the rest of the ensemble _.  Musicians are weird._ “Hey, guys!  This is Edward – he does songwriting and producing, and figured he could help you guys out,” Iris continued, holding her hands behind her back.

“Hi,” Edward said, taking them all in.  “How much experience do you guys have?”

“Uh, zero,” Noctis answered.

“He means we’ve all played separately, but not as a group,” Ignis clarified.  Noctis could almost imagine him adding something about ‘ _be careful how you phrase your thoughts, lest you land us in hot water,’_ but he was spared.  For now, at least.

Edward raised his eyebrows and gave a clearly annoyed look to Iris, who crossed her arms.  “Hey, if you don’t want me to patch up things with your father-in-law, then by all means, turn them down.  It’s your call, Edward.”

The two of them had a glaring contest for a while, staring each other down like they’d done it a hundred times before.  It ended with Edward sighing, adjusting his hat.  “Fine.  I’ll listen to you all play separately, and then…we’ll play it by ear, I guess.”

“I knew you’d come around.  Alright, let’s go!” Iris said, leading the way, despite the fact that this wasn’t in any way her recording studio.  _She’ll be a great manager,_ Noctis thought, following behind.  _Friendly and bossy at the same time._

Prompto took a few pictures as they walked, guitar case shifting against his back.  The straps were a little too loose, but Noctis supposed he didn’t carry it around too often.  One of many things that would be changing as they went through with this crazy plan.

Once they reached a clearly locked door, Edward took the lead, rounding a few bends until he stopped in front of a red door with _D.J. BombardEd_ spray-painted onto it.  “After you,” he said, holding it open.

The place looked pretty normal to Noctis, but then again, it wasn’t like he had a very realistic conception of what a recording studio was supposed to look like.  Just a black room with a glass window, and a seating area on the other side.  And some switch-looking things.  _I don’t know anything about how this works._

“Man, this is the real deal,” Prompto said, rocking back and forth on his toes.  “What do you want us to do, Edward?”

“Give me a moment,” Edward said, sitting down by the… _mixboards?  Mixtapes?  Switchfeet?  Sawteeth?_ He took off his hat and pulled his hair back into a ponytail, glancing between all of them in turn.  “Man in the middle.  Half-Titan.  Yeah, I mean you,” he said when Gladio pointed at himself.  “Your name?  And what do you play?”

“Glenn Hawke, and drums.”

“Ah yes, the _drummer._ In the booth, then – just need to make sure you’re not awful,” Edward said.  Gladio nodded and did as he was told, performing a series of fills…riffs…rhythms…whatever they were called, looking relaxed as rain.  Noctis imagined what _his_ solo session would sound like and snorted, prompting a glare from Ignis.

Speaking of whom, Edward called on the ‘psychiatrist slash model’ next.  “I remember you said your name was Iggy Shears, right?  Instruments?”

“Keyboards, mostly,” Ignis said.

“Doesn’t surprise me.  You look the type,” Edward said, directing Ignis to play whatever he felt like.  Ignis Scientia was more than proficient in classical music, but Iggy Shears had a style that was a bit more…eclectic?  Jazzy?  _On second thought, he’s just adding stuff to the pieces he already knows_ , Noctis thought, feeling a little smug for recognizing as much.

“You’re good,” Edward said, sounding more tired by the minute.  “Okay, the freckly guy’s next.”

“Uh, Prompto Argentum, guitar and lead vocals!” the freckly guy in question said, entering the booth and looking…pretty awkward.  “Um…directions?”

Edward closed his eyes.  “Just sing something.  Original, if you have it.”

“Well, I guess I have this one thing I play sometimes,” Prompto said, tuning the guitar.  “It doesn’t have any lyrics, though…”

“Make some up, then.”

Prompto thought for a moment and then nodded.  “Just put it all out there, Prompto.”  Noctis gave him the thumbs up, watching Prompto take a deep breath before humming out the tune.  “I’ve seen a lot of bread in my lifetiiiime…yeah.  I see a lot of bread every day.  But I never seen a duck so fiiiiiine.  Until she came quacking my waaaay.  I’m talking ‘bout Jenny—”

“Stop.  What the hell…even…sweet Shiva,” Edward said.  “Okay, the tune’s fine, but _for the love of everything holy,_ let’s do something else.  I hate myself for making this connection, but…you know ‘Jenny is a Friend of Mine,’ right?”

“Yeah, who doesn’t?” Prompto said, before promptly shutting up and getting to singing, or whatever annoyed instruction Edward gave him.  The song had a totally different feel when it was just acoustic guitar, and he switched keys after the first line, but Prompto nailed it all the same.  “We took a walk that night, but it wasn't the same.  We had a fight on the promenade out in the rain.  She said she loved me, but she had somewhere to go…”

Edward let Prompto sing the whole piece, and despite the fact that it wasn’t really a romantic song…at all…Noctis was _feeling it_ (if he was being completely honest, he felt it with the duck song, too).  It took a moment after Prompto reclaimed his seat for Noctis to realize he was the last one up.

“Nick Calloway, bass and backup vocals,” he said, already feeling some embarrassment for what he was about to do.

“Just…do something.  In the realm of normality, please,” Edward said, writing something down.

Noctis noodled around on the lowest string for a moment.  “I’m not any good at lyrics either, but I won’t sing about ducks, I promise,” he said, much to everyone’s amusement.  Except for Edward, but the poor guy was having a weird day.  “This song is about someone who’s…” _Own it._ “…supermegafoxyawesomehot.”  _Chicka-blam._

“This isn’t a soliloquy.  Just start playing,” Edward said.

Noctis nodded, but he didn’t start playing.  He gulped down the nerves.  _I already started this, so I have to finish it._   “And, I figured, Prompto—” pausing to catch the surprised look on his friend’s face “—since I’m still working out the lyrics, I’ll put _your_ name where _their_ name should be, and uh, it’ll work out.”

“O…okay,” Prompto said, sounding eager and terrified at the same time.  Noctis chose to ignore Gladio and Iggy’s hilarious expressions, because, well.  He wasn’t gonna have the balls to do this otherwise.

“Get on with it already,” Edward said, exasperated.

 _Here goes nothing._ He played the notes that went along with one of Prompto’s chord progressions without any lyrics. _Deep breath_.  “You’re a nerd, but I like you, shit that doesn’t rhyme-o – Prompto.  You don’t cook with cilantro, like someone else that we know – Prompto.  I’d go out with you tomorrow, wouldn’t keep it on the down low – Prompto.  You’re hotter than Ravatogh…wanna take you down to House Fleuret, _that’s in Tenebrae!_ Prompto, Prompto, Prompto…”

“Ifrit, that’s enough,” Edward said, rubbing his temples.  “Out.  Sit.  Wait while I get some…tea.”

 _Same.  That was terrible_ , Noctis thought, cringing at how embarrassed Prompto looked.  _Bad idea.  That was a bad idea._ “Was it that awful?”

“I dunno,” Gladio said.  “What did you think, Prompto?”

“It was…ah…um…it was _something,_ all right,” Prompto said, not meeting his eyes.  “Hotter than Ravatogh, huh?” he added, sounding…wistful.  _Wistful is good, right?_

Edward, bless him, chose that moment to come back in and save them all from an awkward conversation.  “The four of you sound like you all belong in different bands, but Iris says you need to stick together.  For some reason…”  _You bet we’re sticking together._ “Anyway, I’ll do it.  Be your producer, that is.  Just…give me some time to write music that we can work with.”

 _And that’s a wrap._ Noctis didn’t meet Prompto’s eyes the whole walk out of there.  He just had to man up and say it.  Later.

 

\--------------------------------- 

 

The lack of auto parts around Leide was starting to get on Cindy’s nerves.

“Darn, Jan – it’s just bad luck.  I coulda _sworn_ that hunter found those parts around here,” Cindy said, putting her hands on her hips.  “I don’t know where else to look.”

It was a real shame.  Extra-bright headlights weren’t a _necessity_ by any means – daemon sightings weren’t all that common, and they were decreasing to boot.  But they’d make night driving a damn sight safer for other reasons, too.

“Ah, it’s alright,” Jan said, sounding disappointed nonetheless.  “There’s always the standard models, right?  I really appreciate you coming out here, just for this.”

 _It’s just the Weaverwilds,_ Cindy thought.  Basically the backyard.  “Let’s walk you on back,” she said, giving the nearby group of sabertusks a wide berth – she didn’t want any scuffles on the way back to work.  “Now, I know Paw-paw gave you a price, but—”

“Don’t even think about giving me a discount, Cindy,” Jan said.  “Even if y’all don’t need the money, when’s the last time you went out and did something _fun_?”

Cindy paused for a moment.  _I guess it_ has _been a while, but…_ “Takin’ care of the garage’s enough fun for me, an’ more than enough work,” she said.  “But if it’s that important to ya…”

“I’m just saying.  Next time somethin’ – or someone – good comes your way, you should go for it,” Jan said.  Cindy’s phone started ringing, and she took it out of her jacket, smiling when she saw the caller ID.

“I’m gonna take this, if you don’t mind,” Cindy said.  “Hey, Holly.  What’s eatin’ ya?”  _Been a while since you last called…I was getting’ worried you never would._

“You’ll never guess,” Holly said.  “I took another job.”

Cindy shook her head at Jan, mouthing the situation as they got closer to the garage.  “I keep tellin’ ya, you’re gonna work yourself into the ground,” she said.  “What’s the job?”

“It was the strangest thing,” Holly said.  “Someone from the Citadel showed up and asked if anyone at the power plant was good with stage tech.  I volunteered, and…well, I should be making a pit stop in Hammerhead late tonight.”

“From the Citadel?  That seems kinda odd,” Cindy said.  _Don’t they have all the best people there already?  Not countin’ Paw-paw._ “Well, be safe, ya hear?  It’d break my heart to have to play nurse cause of a run-in with a daemon.”

“I’ll be fine – daemons don’t go too near the roads, last I checked,” Holly said.  _Still…I don’t want you gettin’ hurt._ “So, see you tonight?”

“It’s a date,” Cindy said, eyes widening when she realized she’s jumped the gun on that one.

Thank the heavens, Holly didn’t seem too fazed.  She said goodbye and hung up, and Cindy was left with a parking lot full of patrons and a very curious-looking Jan.

“You’re sweet on Holly, aren’t you?” Jan asked.

“Is it really that obvious?” Cindy asked, pouting.  “Don’t tell her, okay?  I’m takin’ it slow.”

Jan crossed her arms.  “If she’s leaving Lestallum, I’m not sure I’d even get the chance,” she said.  “So your secret’s safe with me.  Well…I’ve got the graveyard shift waiting for me, so I’d better head out.  It was good seeing you.”

“Good seein’ you, too,” Cindy said, handing Jan’s keys back and watching as she drove off, the sun halfway through its evening descent.  Now, to find a clean pair of shorts…

 

\---------------------------------

 

“I’m so mad!  Gods, Prompto, did you parents pull this crap when you were seventeen?” Neha said, practically seething.  Prompto couldn’t see her face, but he imagined she looked pretty scary.

“My parents weren’t around all that much,” Prompto said.  “Sure made sneaking around a lot easier,” he added, with a smirk at Noctis.  _Especially once Ignis got on board with it._

“Lucky,” Neha grumbled.  “It sucks that we can’t come over – gods, my mom snitched to everyone else’s parents too – but the food is still on the porch, right?  Margie said she dropped it off an hour ago.”

“Yep,” Prompto said, picking up the containers and handing them to Noctis.  “It doesn’t look like the cat got into it, either.”

“That’s a relief,” Neha said.  “The box on the bottom has black bean brownies since we know you like those, the top box is a macaroni hotdish, and there’s guac in the round container.  You guys enjoy it, okay?”

Prompto opened the front door and held it open while Noct walked in, following soon after.  “For sure,” he said.  _Mmm, my stomach’s already grumbling._   “Thanks for doing all this – you know you guys didn’t have to.”

“Come on, somebody had to!  I was kind of expecting to throw you a party for getting some awesome photography job or something, but this is cool, too,” Neha said.  “Good luck, until next time?”

“Yeah.  Good luck with your parents, Neha,” Prompto said before ending the call.

Noctis slid the bottom box out from the pile and took off the lid, eyeing the brownies suspiciously.  “Did she say there are… _beans_ in this?” he asked.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Prompto said.  “Basically, you use the beans instead of flour, and it ends up being really fudgy and good.  At least I _think_ that’s what it is.”

“Beans…”

Prompto chuckled, getting out a knife to cut up the brownies.  “You’re gonna try one – don’t argue, this is _my_ house,” he said, putting a small one on a plate.  “Come on.  Just a bite.”

Noctis looked like he was about to eat road slush, but he took a bite anyway, his expression quickly changing to one of disbelief.  “Holy shit, this is amazing,” he said.

“Hehe,” Prompto chuckled, opening up the guacamole.  He might have a couple brownies later, but the good guac wasn’t gonna last forever.  “Told you you’d like it.”

“Actually, no, you told me I’d try one.  But hey, this might be the first time I’ve willingly eaten beans,” Noctis said, cutting out another brownie piece.

Prompto got out a bag of chips (a bit stale, but they were fine enough) and dipped one into the guac.  _I should get the oven going to heat up that hotdish_.  “I hear people make brownies with avocados sometimes, too,” he said, eating the chip.  “It’s probably kind of similar to those.”

“More ways to hide vegetables in dessert.  Great,” Noctis said, though it was only half-sarcastic.  “What do you think are the odds Ignis already knows about these?”

Prompto shrugged.  “It’s more of a thing in health food circles than royal advisor circles, if you know what I mean,” he said.

A few minutes passed with little conversation, the two friends taking advantage of all the free food.  There was definitely more than what was reasonable for two people, but nobody could put away food like twenty-year-old boys.  It was some time later, stomach full of macaroni and brownies, when Prompto’s mind drifted back to earlier.  Noctis in the recording booth.  Singing about cilantro and volcanoes.  “I didn’t know you could improv like that,” Prompto said offhandedly, hoping the conversation would go where he wanted it to go.

Noctis tilted his head back and closed his eyes.  “Yeah…improv.  I actually, um, kind of planned the whole thing.  So.  That happened.”

The thing that struck Prompto about this was that…it was funny, yeah.  But it was also consistent with what everyone else was telling him about Noct, and his chances.  Which was kind of mind-blowing.  “Um.  Do you…do you really feel that way about me?” Prompto asked.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” Noctis said, half-running out of the room.

Well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Ignis was playing [ this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sUChDL786vI) and [ this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRcu9wafT9s%20), Prompto (if you didn't know about the duck song already) was singing [ this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3q-rklETeM) and [ this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=om_18WhUddY), and Noctis LITERALLY changed the lyrics to [ this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3WfOEAe1rK4). :D fun times
> 
> What's coming up shouldn't surprise anyone. _It's Promptis action time._


	4. Trainwreck Gone Right / Crown City Shuffle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the kudos, bookmarks, subs, and comments (especially comments) on this fic really mean a lot to me, you guys :'). Definitely tell me how I did on this chapter, because, I never feel like I can get ~feeling~ scenes right and always end up publishing them like "ugh, have my trash." ~~also I know there's not a window in Prompto's bathroom just humor me~~

There were a number of things that probably should’ve crossed Noct’s mind as he opened the window, swinging his leg out into the cold evening air.  ‘ _What the fuck am I doing?’_ was near the top of that list, but by the time he realized how much of a dumbass he was being, the window had already slipped back on top of his leg.  Trapping him.

Noctis wasn’t sure how long he’d been stuck, but from how cold his foot was getting, it was probably at least five or ten minutes.  He pushed against the wall, hoping to pull his leg back inside, but it was no use.  _You sure messed this one up, Crown Prince._

This was easily the most embarrassing situation Noctis had ever been in.  Ever (except for – maybe – the drunken warping incident).  And he’d done a _lot_ of stupid shit in the past twenty-four hours.

 _One more time and it’ll work,_ he thought, pushing against the wall with all the strength his free leg could muster.  Nothing happened, except for the window lowering further onto his thigh, which was the _last_ thing he wanted. 

Noctis bit down on his lip to keep from making any noise, wanting to keep whatever shreds of dignity he still could.  _Okay, so I panicked.  And…ran away.  And tried to escape through the bathroom window.  And got stuck in said bathroom window._

_And Prompto’s still waiting out there.  Maybe._

He forgot entirely about his previous goal and groaned, _not_ enjoying how cold his bare foot was getting outside, or how much his leg was starting to hurt.  “Uuuuugh, what do I do, what do I do…” he said, half hoping to get rescued, half hoping to fall off the face of Eos.

 _Think.  Be…rational, for once.  What are my options?_ Well, he could shout for Prompto and ask for help getting out of this jam.  Except no, he’d already made enough of a fool of himself, so.  That was out.  He’d already tried pushing himself back inside.  Thanks to the awkward angle, he couldn’t push the window back up with any good amount of force, and warping was out of the question, unless he wanted to destroy a wall or two.  Property damage wasn’t gonna earn him any brownie points here.

Which left just one course of action.

 _Speed dial is a blessing._ The call went to one ring, two rings, three rings…and straight to Ignis’s voicemail.  “You’ve reached Ignis Scientia.  I can’t take calls at the moment, so please leave your name and…”

Noctis waited for the message tone out of habit, even though there was no way he could stand being stuck in the window much longer.  “Hey, Ignis. Uh, if you get this message, I…nevermind,” Noctis said, ending the call.  And then thinking better of it and calling right back, getting the same result.  He realized there was a decent chance Prompto had already called him or Gladio already, since, by all accounts, Noctis appeared to have lost his mind.

Maybe he had.  It certainly felt like it.

 _There’s no way Ignis knows I’m fucking stuck, though._ Noctis closed his eyes and ran through the list of people he could call.  Ignis wasn’t answering.  Gladio probably wouldn’t either, and if he did, he’d just laugh at him.  He _could_ call someone from the Crownsguard, except then the entire Crownsguard would know how much of an idiot he was.  So no Crownsguard.

Luna would be the obvious choice under less urgent circumstances, being a good friend who gave good advice and probably wouldn’t tease him – and he’d told her enough about Prompto for her to put two and two together.  But there wasn’t any way to contact her (barring Umbra) without the empire hearing all about it.  And Noctis did _not_ want some random security officer in the empire laughing about his predicament.  Or telling the imperial press about it.

_This is a nightmare._

There was still one more person he could call.  Someone he could trust with just about anything, but who would probably roll his eyes at Noct’s stupidity.  _Well, it’s not like I have any other choice at this point._   Noctis dialed his father’s number in defeat, waiting for the call to go through.

Regis picked up on the third ring.  “Noct?  I’m in a meeting – is something the matter?”

“Um…”  _Come on.  Spit it out._ “My leg’s trapped in a window,” Noctis said in a rush.

There was a sound like something covering the speaker, and Noctis resisted the urge to sigh.  _Of course he’s laughing.  I’d probably be laughing too, if I were him._ “Well.  That sounds… _pane_ -ful.”

Noctis sighed.  “Not as painful as that pun.”

“Can’t the king have a laugh every once in a while…” Regis grumbled, though there was enough humor in his voice that Noct knew he was amused.  “So _how_ did your leg get stuck in a window?  Where are you?”

The money question.  Noctis closed his eyes.  “Prompto’s house.”

There was silence on the other end, for a longer stretch this time.  Which, sure, it was objectively kind of funny.  But _still._   “And you haven’t asked Prompto for help?” Regis asked.

“Well, I—” Noctis sighed.  “I can’t.  I’m an idiot.”

“I’ll tell you a secret – we all are, at some point.  So how about you start from the beginning,” Regis said calmly, “and then we’ll figure out what the best course of action is.”

Noctis frowned.  He was hoping for a quick fix, not a lengthy discussion about his dumbass decisions.  Or his feelings.  He wasn’t sure which was worse.  “Aren’t you in a meeting?”

“I put you on speaker.”

“What – _Dad!_ ”

 _That…explains some things._ Regis chuckled.  “Everyone here was also present the night you were warping intoxicated – do you remember how you found him, Nyx?”

There was a laugh he recognized as Nyx’s, and affirmations from several others, and Noct groaned.  _Of all the things that could’ve happened.  This is the one._ “That’s not.  This isn’t about that.”

“Suuuure it isn’t.  We’re all here to support you, so just put it all out there,” someone said with a snicker.  There was still too much laughter for Noctis to tell who it was.

“We’re not laughing at you, we’re laughing _with_ you!”  _Yeah, right._

Regis silenced them and then let out an exaggerated sigh.  “I’m going to assume my guess as to what happened is correct.  You were talking about a…sensitive topic, were at a loss for what to do, and tried to leave in the most ill-thought out way possible.”

“…Yep.”  More muffled laughter.  Sure, these people, for the most part, had known Noctis for a long time, but he almost wanted to hang up.

“Alright, son.  Repeat after me – you’re going to hang up the phone in a moment,” Regis said, in the sort of tone that used to calm Noctis down.

“I’m going to hang up the phone in a moment,” Noctis repeated.

“You’re going to call for Prompto and hope he comes to your aid – you didn’t lock yourself in, correct?”

“The door’s unlocked,” Noctis said.  “So I hang up.  I call Prompto.”

“He helps you get your leg out of the window, and then – here’s the important part – you say whatever it was you were about to say before you bolted.”

“I…say it,” Noctis said.  _And I’m supposed to be ruling a kingdom someday._

“You say it,” Regis confirmed.  “Noct, there comes a time in every Caelum’s life when he must make himself vulnerable.  The worst case scenario is that Prompto doesn’t feel the same way – though I highly doubt that’s the case.  You can do this.”

“I can do this.”

“You can.  I’m going to hang up now.  Good luck, Noct.”

“Bye, Dad,” Noct said, biting his lip as Regis hung up.

 _Okay.  I can do this.  I can do this._ This was fine.  Everything was fine.  Confessing feelings was something basically everyone did at some point.  Even if most people did it… _before_ they were twenty…and not with their best friend of five-plus years.

 _Stop overthinking._ “…Prompto?”

There was a knock at the door a moment later, though he didn’t hear any footsteps.  The thought of Prompto overhearing the conversation he just had _would_ have brought more heat to his cheeks, except he’d already reached Peak Embarrassment™ a while ago.  “Can I come in?” Prompto asked.

“ _Please_ ,” Noctis said.  Time to get out of this goddamn window.

The door opened with a creak, and Prompto cracked up the second he saw Noct’s predicament, the sound weirdly comforting in Noct’s awful situation.  “Okay, that…that explains a lot,” he said.  “I heard you talking to somebody?”

 _I knew it._ “Yeah, I called my dad,” Noctis said, “about…um…you’re not…upset that I walked out like that, because…”

He didn’t have time to finish his sentence before Prompto lifted up the window, and Noctis fell to the floor with a thud.  Prompto helped him up, hands at his sides to steady him, and… _his hands are at my sides.  And they aren’t moving._

It wasn’t like they’d never been physically close before, it was just…now, Noctis couldn’t think straight.  _I think I did lose my mind._ Prompto was looking at him with a weird expression on his face – part smug, part pleading, and his hands firmly in place.  Driving Noctis crazy.  “Because…” Prompto said, looking at him expectantly.

“I do feel…” Noctis said, as casually as he could manage when his heart kept beating faster by the second.  “A lot…yeah.”

“Yeah, me too,” Prompto said, leaning in.  _Oh shit, oh shit this is really happening isn’t it what do I—_ Prompto paused, close enough that his bangs brushed against Noct’s forehead, his breath ghosting against his lips.  “Hey…I know this kind of…ruins the mood…but can we move somewhere that isn’t my bathroom?”

“Sure,” Noctis breathed, pretty sure that at this point he’d follow Prompto anywhere.

They made it as far as the hallway before Noctis caved, pulling Prompto by the shirt until their lips collided, and _fuck_ he really should’ve said something sooner because holy _shit_ , this was fantastic.  Prompto seemed content to let Noctis take the lead, so take the lead he did, even though they both knew that Noctis had next to no idea what he was doing.  Whatever.  He’d learn.  Kissing Prompto felt like coming up for air after spending an eternity underwater, like the sun coming out after a storm.  Like getting lost, only to find exactly what he was looking for.  And he needed Prompto to _know_ that, even if he couldn’t form the words.

Prompto hummed against Noct’s lips as they moved against each other, Noct’s hands in Prompto’s hair and Prompto’s on his hips.  That steadiness was all Noctis needed to hum back, stumbling until his lower back jabbed into the corner of something that felt an awful lot like the radio, and the jolt of pain interrupted the goodness in front of him.  “Ouch…” he said, tilting his head back, lips separating from Prompto’s.

The station the radio was on was playing an older ballad, all strings and guitar, and Noctis didn’t reach back to turn it off.  “Hehe, you alright?” Prompto asked, and before Noct had a chance to answer, he’d taken the opportunity to rub at the spot with his free hand and duck down to kiss his exposed neck.

Noct let out a ragged breath, followed by a moan as Prompto’s kisses turned to nibbles.  “Aahh…I…”

“Mmm?” Prompto said.  The sound of his voice sent all Noct’s blood rushing downwards, and he moaned again, tilting his head further back to give Prompto better access.

 _You have…so much power over me.  I…_ “Don’t know…what I’d do…without you,” Noctis said, the words turning to sighs on his tongue.  “Prom…”

Prompto’s mouth left his neck to press soft kisses onto his lips again, driving away any doubt that the feeling wasn’t mutual.  “Good thing I’m…gonna stick around then, huh?”  Prompto said, pressing their foreheads together.  “Noct, I’ve…I’ve wanted this…forever, basically.  I just…” Another series of kisses, each longer than the last.  Each leaving him half-helpless, needing more.  “…Never knew you felt the same way.  So don’t worry about it.”

Noctis thought it was about time Prompto get a taste of his own medicine, and he slid his hands down his friend’s sides, latching his mouth onto the spot right under Prompto’s earlobe.

“Ooh…that’s good…” Prompto said, turning his head once he caught on to what Noct wanted.

He trailed downwards, giving extra attention to the spots that made Prompto squirm, soothing the nips he left with swipes of his tongue.   “I didn’t realize…this morning…you were talking about me, right?” Noctis said, pulse loud in his ears.  “Fuck if I’m not ‘realistic’…Prompto, you’re my _best friend_.”

“You…weren’t always, though,” Prompto said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Noct said, rolling his hips forward, lips on his collarbone.  _More, I need more._ “You’re my…”  _Everything.  No, that’s too cheesy._ “…Ray of sunshine.”  _Shit, that’s worse._

“Haha…I didn’t know you were such a romantic,” Prompto said, voice half undone, grinding against Noctis with the same energy.  “Well, _you’re_ the…whole night sky to me.”

Noctis went back to capture his lips again, before this turned into a contest of who could say the most cringe-worthy line.  Which – honestly – he wasn’t sure which one of them would win.  Prompto kissed him back, eagerly, deeply, urgently.  It was too much and not enough at the same time, but it was _good_.  So good.  And with effort a little bit of luck, it’d only get better from here.

 

\---------------------------------

 

Prompto’s first thought upon waking was that the blankets were awfully… _heavier_ than usual.  And it wasn’t until said blankets shifted, wrapping around him with more force than any blanket really should, that Prompto remembered how _fucking lucky_ he was.

Morning sunlight streamed through his bedroom window – _his_ bedroom window, he’d always imagined they’d come together, well, somewhere else – and illuminated Noct’s bedhead.  Giving him a halo of sorts.  Which, in Prompto’s opinion, was pretty fitting.

Prompto adjusted so he was facing the ceiling, rubbing a hand along Noct’s back as he slept.  Noct reacted by cuddling even closer, burying his head in Prompto’s shoulder.  _Yeah.  This is good._

Sometimes it felt like Prompto’s entire life was a battle against low expectations.  He remembered moving into this house with his parents, half the height he was now and with half the freckles, surprised at how _bright_ the place was – so many windows, and so much open space.  More than he’d expected…more than he thought he’d deserved.

 _I was so sad before you_ , he thought, smiling as Noctis shifted again.  _Before Lady Lunafreya wrote to me and I promised to change._

He remembered his parents taking their photo album, the only pictures they had of their friends and families, and emptying it, locking the photos away in a box under the floorboards.  They threw away the key.  Prompto remembered being scared, worrying for _months_ that if they couldn’t keep pictures, it was because someone bad might go after them and they’d go away forever.

His father didn’t deny it.  ‘ _We came here to keep you safe, Prompto.  And we’re going to do just that.  Even if it means we can’t keep our old pictures.’_

There was one night, a year or so after they moved, the night before his birthday – Prompto had a nightmare.  It was dark and metallic and empty and _terrifying_ , and when he woke up, his mother had spent all their extra money on a digital camera, wrapped in a box with green paper.  ‘ _So you can fill the photo album with new pictures,_ ’ she’d said, giving him a warm hug he sorely needed.

She’d said something else too, something that had stuck with him all these years.  _‘Your life is yours to live.’_ There was a hint of sadness in her voice as she said it, a testament to the time he’d never get back.  It didn’t help when they had to take jobs far away, and their home became just a house.  It was okay, though, since Prompto had been expecting as much.  He was used to being alone, to fending for of himself.  It was only years later, after he’d come out of his shell, that Prompto understood he shouldn’t have to live like that.  Sure, life had its twists and turns.  Sometimes things didn’t work out.

But sometimes they _did_ , and it was those things that made it worth being hopeful.

Prompto’s camera was in the kitchen, but his phone was within reach, and he snapped a shot of him and Noct – for posterity.  For a candid, the lighting was near-perfect.  They didn’t even look that bad, though…covering their necks for the next few days would probably be a good idea.  Ha.

“Uhh…you awake, Prompto?”

“Yep.  Feeling better?” Prompto asked.  “Now that you’re not emotionally constipated?”

“I wasn’t…” Noct yawned, breath ghosting against Prompto’s neck.  “…Emotionally constipated.”

“You definitely were, dude,” Prompto said.

“Okay, _fine_ …maybe a little.”

They lay together for a few minutes as Noct woke up, trailing his hands across Prompto’s skin and under his shirt.  “So…what should we do now?”

 _Iris hasn’t sent us anything.  Free day?_ “We could…uh…stay here, or go back to your place and practice.”

“ _Practice_?” Noct purred, and it really wasn’t fair how soon he got his cool back after confessing last night.  “Practice _what_?”

Prompto snickered, sliding his hand a little lower until Noctis jumped.  “I meant music, but…this works, too.”  _Wait._ “Hold on, I’ve got a better idea – we could go out?”

“What, like a date?”

“Well, yeah,” Prompto said, trying not to second-guess himself.  “I mean, assuming we’re ‘dating’ now…”

Noctis moved up and pressed their lips together before getting out of bed, stretching his arms over his head.  “Definitely.”

 

\---------------------------------

 

Iris was having a pretty solid day, even if she had to get up a solid three hours before school.  Errands could be rough.

First stop, the radio center for that music college she used to dream of attending.  After a lot of convincing (a _lot –_ she claimed her boys would be internationally famous before anyone knew it), she’d gotten her radio friend George to agree to air the first Sgt. Prompto’s Lonely Hearts single – as soon as they recorded it, anyway.  Score for Team Amicitia.

Next up: her deal with Edward.  The producer’s father-in-law was kind enough, though it was pretty obvious that whatever Edward has done wrong, he’d done _very wrong._ Like, he’s-lucky-to-be-alive wrong.  Iris listened to an hour-long rant about ‘ _Anna’s safety, Anna’s financial security, all in jeopardy if she elopes with a spoony record producer’_ which, honestly, she kind of agreed with.  Edward wasn’t exactly the picture of responsibility.

She promised she’d tell him as much and moved to leave, only to be hit with the one sentence she didn’t want to hear.  “You’re an Amicitia, right?  I’d like to thank your father for his service to king and country.”

Iris was gracious, telling him that it was no trouble, and that the Amicitias served the crown with pride, but she was frustrated all the same.  Not because of the praise – she was long used to it, and it was definitely well-deserved.  Her family did a _lot_ for the safety of the line of Lucis.

It was just that being the band’s agent would be more difficult if she was getting recognized all the time.  Sure, Iris wasn’t a big celebrity by any means, but it was only a hop, skip and a jump from ‘ _oh, their manager is the Amicitias’ daughter’_ to ‘ _hey, the drummer looks like he could be her brother’_ to ‘ _wow, you think the bassist is Prince Noctis?’_

She needed a new alias, stat.

Iris was grateful for her mornings-only class schedule, stopping at home after her last lecture to change into casual clothes, grabbing enough cash to cover a wardrobe change.  It was time for some shopping.

The strip mall on 12th Avenue had more than enough thrift shops to meet her needs.  Within an hour and a half, Iris found enough brightly-colored (ugh) clothing to cover a few outfits, a _neon rain jacket_ , dark-tinted glasses, lipstick, and – the best part – an auburn wig that looked pretty good on her.  In her opinion, at least.

Now all she needed was to test it out… _well, there’s no time like the present!_ Getting changed wasn’t too difficult, and as Iris emerged from the nearest department store’s bathroom, she felt like a new woman.

Iris yawned.  _A new woman in need of coffee._ There was a Stargil a few blocks west, and she made the distance in five minutes, new heels tapping against the pavement.  The shop was pretty full, but she didn’t spend any time looking for a seat – her destination was the register.  Her objective: a cup of her favorite blonde roast.

When her turn came to order, she pushed up her glasses and smiled, hoping the lipstick hadn’t smudged.  “Just a cup of blonde roast, iced.”

“That’ll be 46 gil,” the barista said flatly.  Iris, fortunately, still had enough cash left after her little shopping spree, and handed the bills to her.  “And your name?”

“Ir—” _No.  New look, new name.  Sgt. Prompto’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’s manager is…_   “Briana,” she said.  _Briana what?  Make it catchy._ “Epstein.”

“I don’t need your last name.  Alright, blonde roast for Briana should be ready in a few minutes,” the barista said, handing an empty cup to the other worker behind the counter.

Iris stood at the other end of the counter and waited, rocking back and forth on her feet.  More difficult in heels, but habits were tough to break.  Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she raised her eyebrows.  _Since when does Noctis call me?  It’s usually the other way around._

“Hi, Noct,” she said, the question implied.

“Why are you dressed like that?” he asked, and Iris was confused before she realized his voice was definitely coming from more than one place.

She turned around and spotted Noctis near one of the windows, Prompto sitting across from him.  They waved, and she walked over, setting her shopping bags down and taking the empty chair they offered.  “I’m dressed like this so I can be _incognito._ I don’t want to be the one who blows your cover, you know?” she said, adjusting the wig.

“Ooh, good idea,” Prompto said, “though that wig isn’t really…uh…staying in place.”

Iris had always liked Prompto – strictly platonically, of course.  He took her seriously, and being taken seriously ranked pretty high on the list of Iris’s favorite things.  “I didn’t have enough bobby pins,” she said with a sigh.  “Am I really _that_ recognizable?”

“No, it’s a good disguise,” Noctis said.  “I’ve just known you since you were this tall,” he added with a smile, gesturing to the height of the table.

The barista called for ‘ _Briana’s blonde roast_ ,’ and Iris picked it up, along with a few napkins.  Both boys were taking sips of their drinks when she returned to the table.  “So…what are you guys doing here?”  Something about their appearance caught her eye.  “And why are you wearing scarves?  It’s _way_ too warm for that.”

“Uh…” Noctis said, immediately taking another sip of his drink.  An excuse to avoid answering if she’d ever seen one.

Half a minutes passed, and Iris blinked slowly.  _Come on, guys._ “We’re on a date,” Prompto eventually said, laughing on the expression on Noct’s face, as well as the one on hers.

“ _What?!_ Congratulations?!  How long have you guys been – oh my gods, is this _recent_?”

Noctis nodded, burying his chin as far into his scarf as it could go.  “Yeah, um…last night.”

“Last night,” Prompto repeated, looking like the cat that got the cream.  “You’re gonna laugh – Noctis totally—”

“Was it worse than the drunk warping?” Iris asked, finally taking a sip of her coffee.  _Glad I came to this Stargil instead of the one across the street._

Prompto paused.  “…What drunk warping?”

 _Cheese and rice, he doesn’t know.  I can’t believe no one told him._ Iris giggled, sliding down in her chair.  _I’ll totally tell him later._ “Let’s change the subject,” Noctis said, derailing the conversation before it went too far.  “Has Edward actually _done_ anything yet?  I mean, we can’t exactly make popular music if we don’t record anything.”

“Well, right now I think he’s getting an earful from his father-in-law,” Iris said.  “But other than that, it’s only been a day.  I’m sure he’ll have something for us soon, we just need to give him a little time.”

 _A little time and a lot of patience,_ Iris thought, remembering the look on his father-in-law’s face.  _Hopefully he doesn’t get into that much trouble again._

 

\--------------------------------- 

 

“These modifications will take some time, Your Majesty.”

Regis frowned.  They had time, but how much?  “Do you have an estimate on how _much_ time, Greta?”

The mechanic shifted from foot to foot nervously.  “I…I don’t know, Your Majesty,” she said.  _I could always send the Regalia to Hammerhead.  If I wanted any reporter who cares to know about it, anyhow._ “None of us are car mechanics.”

“What about the woman we hired out of Lestallum?”

“Holly?  I don’t know if she’s good with cars or not, sir.  She should arrive in the next few hours, though, and then I can ask,” Greta said, obviously glad to have some of the responsibility off of her shoulders.

Regis wanted to roll his eyes, but Greta seemed stressed enough as it was.  So he settled for a firm nod.  “I want the car to be well-prepared for a long journey,” he said.  _There may be a long road ahead, and I want my son to be safe._

He thought about Noct’s call the previous night, and the likely results, and decided on something else.  “Also, give the windows a darker tint.”  _They won’t want any…incriminating paparazzi photos._

“Um…alright, Your Majesty.  Right away,” Greta said, taking her leave with the memo full of modifications.  _Do we really have such a shortage of car mechanics?_

A few minutes passed, the corridor more or less empty.  Regis debated with himself for a moment whether or not to call his son, and decided that after that pep talk, he deserved to know how things had turned out.  He dialed Noct’s number, smiling to himself when he picked up.  “How did things go, Noct?”

“Uh, it went…well, actually,” Noctis said, sounding happier than he had in weeks, which, in turn, brightened Regis’s mood.  “…Thanks.”

 _Let’s see, it’s early afternoon…Clarus and Crowe both owe me a drink._ “I thought it would,” Regis said, proud as pie.  “If you’re still dropping by for dinner the weekend after next, make sure you invite Prompto.”

“Sure thing, Dad.”

Regis had to end the call earlier than he would’ve liked – phone conferences with the First Secretary were not a thing to be late for, even on days when happy news came his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next - checking up on the folks outside Lucis, as well as Ignis and Gladio, who *gasp* weren't in this chapter at all. It should take around the same amount of time, though I'm not exactly reliable...
> 
> p.s. the song on the radio was "The Rain Song" by Led Zeppelin, which I'll link as soon as I get back to my laptop.


	5. Crystalline Chill Out and Rock Up

Brandon’s hands shook as he poured his fifth cup of coffee in as many hours, filling the mug to the brim with the life-giving liquid.  Oh, he needed the caffeine.  And more than the caffeine, he needed a nap.  And more than a nap, he needed a full night’s sleep.  “Haha,” he said aloud, looking around to make sure nobody heard him talking to himself.  _A full night of sleep…as if that’ll ever happen._

His stomach growled, followed by his phone buzzing with another email notification.  Fantastic.

“Gods, _why_ ,” he grumbled, resigning himself to another day without a lunch break.  Every day that passed, things managed to get worse.  For the world, yeah, but more than that, for him.  _‘This internship is the best opportunity you’ll ever have,’ they said.  ‘It’s an honor to assist the highest levels of government,’ they said._

Honor or not, Brandon was having a _bad_ time.  And the damn coffee tasted like dirt.

“Brandon, are you okay?  You look like you’re gonna drop dead.”  It took him a minute to place the voice.  Being the workhorse of the capitol building, Brandon worked with probably a hundred people on any given day (or night, hell, his ‘hours’ tended to be more like days), and names were hard to remember.  But he turned around and _oh, that’s the locksmith.  No.  It’s…the photographer.  Or maybe it’s the cartographer?  Wait, why the hell would we need a cartographer?_

The kid, guy, dude, whoever’s big shoes filled his peripheral vision, and Brandon sighed with recognition.  _Biographer, that’s who he is._ “If only I could, Ross,” he said.  “I don’t remember the last time I slept, and I haven’t had anything today except coffee, so.  If only I could.”

Ross seemed a little taken aback, which didn’t faze Brandon in the slightest.  Morbid humor was his only solace in these trying times.  “Am I on your schedule?” Ross asked, and he almost sounded like he was… _concerned_ about Brandon’s wellbeing or something.  “We could make it a lunch meeting.  Food will definitely help you feel better.”

_Quitting this job would help me feel better,_ Brandon thought.  _But no one who quits under Izunia will ever find work again._ Well, there wasn’t anything to lose from taking up Ross’s offer except another hour of sleep.  Which he probably wouldn’t get anyway.  “Sure, why not.”

“Awesome!  I usually just buy a fruit smoothie for lunch, but…you probably need something heavier than that, huh?” Ross said, already making his way outside.  “How do you feel about sandwiches?”

“Literally anything with calories is fine by me,” Brandon said, already tasting the sweet, sweet flavor of food in his mouth.  “I don’t have much gil, though…”  _And I never will, working here.  T_T when will my suffering end._

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover.  It’s fine,” Ross said, instantly earning a top spot on Brandon’s list of personal heroes.  “…What?  Was it something I said?”

“ _Bless_ you,” Brandon said, placing a hand over his heart for a moment, then frowning.  _That’s…gods, I sound like that other intern in the project management department.  Or was it the statistics department?  I don’t remember._

The sandwich shop Ross had in mind was pretty cheap, and Brandon didn’t feel a trace of guilt in ordering the biggest, most calorie-laden item on the menu.  He needed it.  Ross got the most standard sandwich ever ( _just a basic garula steak and cheese, what a sandwich plebeian_ ), and before Brandon could worry about the dozen new emails he probably had to deal with, they were seated at a booth near the corner.

Ross took a bite out of his sandwich and swallowed before speaking.  “So…this is kind of blunt.  But Brandon, are you being overworked?”

_Is water wet?  Does the sun rise in the east?  Does the chancellor age at an alarmingly slow rate?_ “You know I can’t say,” Brandon said.  “Imperial Employee Discretion Act of—”

“Whatever year the MTP program began, I know,” Ross said, “though I thought that applied more to…like…military people?  And the weapons development divisions?”  From the tone of his voice, Brandon wasn’t sure if Ross fully understood.  It was true that the order was originally meant to shut up MTP’s dissenters, but the language in that order was _so vague_ that it basically applied to anyone working for the government.  About anything.  Even assuming the law didn’t apply – Brandon couldn’t just talk shit about his boss, the _chancellor of Niflheim_ , in a public place and expect to come out okay.  Or at all.

Basically, Niflheim fucking sucked.  But there’s wasn’t anywhere he could go and _not_ be in Niflheim.  Except for Lucis, but from the way the chancellor was talking about it lately…no, Brandon was better off staying where he was.  On the metaphorical train of lifelong suffering.

But Brandon wasn’t about to word-vomit all that, so he just shook his head.  “It applies to everyone,” he said, “you included.  So be careful what you say about MTP, or…people being ‘overworked.’”

Ross obviously wasn’t a fan of that idea, and Brandon found himself wondering how the guy even managed to get the biography job in the first place with that kind of attitude.  _If he wants to write a thorough biography of the chancellor, he’s gonna have a hard time doing it without getting in trouble.  Classified information, forbidden opinions.  That man’s life is a maze of lies.  And questionable fashion choices._

“What if I make this conversation…off the record,” Ross said, sounding way less sneaky than he probably intended.  “Trust me…I’m friends with the woman who owns this place.  It’s not bugged.  I just wanna know if you’re doing okay, is all.  What kind of a boss is he?”

It was a ploy for information and even in his chronically exhausted state, Brandon knew it.  But the more he thought about it, the less he cared.  There wasn’t anything he could tell ‘A. Ross’ that the public would find remotely surprising, and well, his life couldn’t get much worse.  Probably.

“Yeah, alright.  I’ll tell you,” Brandon said, suddenly wishing his fifth cup of coffee had been tea instead.  “So, first of all, he’s got me doing half his job – he’s always trying to bounce national policy ideas off of me – remember, this guys’ been a powerful government official _longer than I’ve been alive_.  I’m just trying to pad my resume.  Also, who asks a grad student what the best method of regicide is?  Like, shouldn’t it be obvious?”

Brandon was building momentum, and he took a bite of his sandwich.  More fuel for his bitterness.  “Since I mentioned it – the ‘stomach cancer’ is a bucket of lies.  I’ll tell you what, the old man’s got a hole in his gut from being poisoned.  Guess who was asked to give the A-okay on that plan?”

“Um…you?” Ross said.  “Probably can’t publish that, huh?”

Brandon snorted.  “I wouldn’t if I were you.  Unless you want to be in the next MTP ‘recuiting’ pool.”  _Bahamut, Ardyn’s so fucking weird.  Actually, all of the big wigs are fucking weird.  I can’t stand them._ “Everyone knows this, but he’s got a _huge_ hard-on for being a dramatic bastard.  ‘Chancellor of no consequence’ my ass.”  He leaned in.  “One time, he asked the cameramen to give one of the emperor’s speeches ‘an attractive glow,’ and everyone in the capitol who didn’t have a title collectively lost their shit.  Just…they’re all a bunch of old guys.  Isn’t that weird?”

“It’s super weird,” Ross agreed.  “Do you have more?”

Hell fucking yes, Brandon had more.  He told Ross about Ardyn’s extremely specific grooming regimen – the last time he’d been forced to accompany him on a business trip, Ardyn had spent an hour making sure his facial hair was scruffy, but not _too_ scruffy.  _Just fucking shave,_ Brandon had thought, though the number of daggers he’d found under the furniture took away any ideas of voicing that thought.

There was also Ardyn’s blatant refusal to keep accurate and thorough records.  All the routes into the empire were manned and armed, but only about half of them were truly _monitored_ , and the ones that were all used different data collection methods – it was a nightmare for the security and statistics departments, and made it nearly impossible to actually regulate what was going on.  It was like the chancellor _wanted_ random, unnecessary drama to happen.  Which, in Brandon’s opinion, was _utter wank._

“Yeah, and you know what else?” Brandon said, finishing off his sandwich.  “I’ve got this one-on-one ‘debriefing’ with him every day, which is when the _really_ weird stuff happens.  You know the crystals?”

“Uh, yes?” Ross said.  “…Doesn’t everyone…?”

“The crystal room’s actually more of an observatory, and it’s got three entrances – one from Zegnautus, one from the sewers, and one from a trapdoor under the chancellor’s desk,” Brandon said, feeling a sick satisfaction at divulging all this info.  He hoped Ross could do more with it than he could.  “Why?  I don’t know.  But after our debriefing, he ‘vanishes’ for an hour or so just to yell at the crystals or some shit.”

Ross raised his eyebrows.  “Why would he do that…?”

“Hell if I know,” Brandon said.  “All I know is that explaining where the hell he is during that time is getting more and more difficult, since no one’s supposed to know.  Don’t want the nation’s leader looking like a whack job, right?”

“Right…” Ross said.  “Uh, when does he do that again?”

Brandon looked at his watch and sighed.  “In an hour and ten minutes, buddy.  I gotta go – back to the grind.”  _I wonder how many days it’ll be before my next break.  T_T life is pain._ “Thanks for buying lunch.”

“No problem,” Ross said, hand in his backpack as Brandon left.

 

\---------------------------------

 

For the second night in a row, Ignis found himself seated at the head of the table, thick book and notepad in front of him.  Whose they were, he didn’t know – though he was sure Gladio would pay a fair amount of gil to know which of the Kingslgaive had been pretending to _not_ own them for years. 

Ignis had wanted to invite Noct and Prompto to this evening’s session – except after the previous night’s _disastrous_ phone call (if only his own phone hadn’t been on silent, the whole situation could have been prevented), it was best the boys continued to believe these nightly meetings were just that: strategy meetings.

In truth, in the absence of new intel from Niflheim, they had run out of productive topics to discuss, and ended up engaging in…other pursuits.  “Are we starting fresh or continuing from last night?” Ignis asked, poised to start writing.

“I think His Majesty would call last night’s session a test run, so how about we start fresh?” Gladio suggested, passing beer (Clarus’s preferred pale ale, Ignis noticed) to everyone at the table.  There were fewer people than last night, though Ignis supposed this wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.  It wasn’t even _his_ cup of tea, to be honest.

Nyx opened his and took a sip, nose wrinkling at the taste.  “Let’s use the same character sheets, though.  Getting started will take all night otherwise.”

Regis chuckled, opening his bottle with a vigor Ignis wasn’t used to seeing.  “That sounds reasonable to me,” he said.  “Ignis, would you mind being the…dungeon master, was it?”

“Not at all,” Ignis said, flipping the book to a bookmarked page.  “Alright – if anyone forgot, the campaign objective is to carry out a political coup in the faraway nation of Gemrica, where the disillusioned populace have foolishly appointed a crudely-mannered capitalist dictator…”

The rest of the background information was a fairly lengthy description of how the nation’s inhabitants had wound up in this crisis in the first place.  Ignis had half a mind to switch to a different campaign, considering how similar ‘party-based political coup’ was to what they were supposed to be doing in the first place, but Clarus and Gladio shot that idea down before he could even voice it.  “Okay, I’m going first – I tell the dictator he has tiny hands,” Gladio said.

“You can’t…you’re hundreds of miles away from Crumpet’s vacation house,” Ignis said.  “He won’t hear you.”

“Does Gemrica have Thunderoc?” Gladio asked.  “Wait, let me rephrase that – is there undeniable proof that they _don’t_ have Thunderoc?”

_Sneaky._ “…I suppose not,” Ignis said with a sigh.  “You call him out on Thunderoc.  Roll for it.”

Gladio rolled a 16, and Ignis thought for a moment.  “Your perfectly-crafted insult causes thousands of people to agree that Crumpet has laughably small hands.  This gets under his skin, and he labels you and your variety magazine a ‘failing pile of garbage.’  You are also, as of now, a target of Crumpet’s dangerous followers.  Good luck.”  _This is what happens when you make choices blindly, without considering the consequences._ Maybe Ignis would enjoy the game more if someone else volunteered to DM.Oh well.

“Damn,” Gladio said.  “Dad, it’s your turn.”

Clarus crossed his legs, his posture in a mirror image of Gladio’s.  “Crumpet must have been summoned by something.  If we defeat the thing that summoned him, that should solve the problem, correct?” he asked.  Ignis nodded.  They’d have an awfully hard time figuring out what that thing was, but he couldn’t give hints.  “I walk to the nearest tavern.”

“Is that all?” Ignis asked.  “Crowe’s and Libertus’s characters begin in the tavern.”

“Hmm…I ask them to join me on an epic quest to find the daemon that summoned Crumpet,” Clarus said.

“Very well.  Your responses?” Ignis said.

“Sure,” Libertus said, with Crowe agreeing a moment later.

_Who’s next…ah, yes._ “Nyx, your move?”

Nyx’s character had started in jail, and he rolled a 12 on “bending the door open” – Ignis figured he got it open just enough to slip through, but would be ambushed by guards upon coming out.  He’d be battling for a while. 

And then it was Regis’s turn.  “Wait, who is my character again?” he asked.

“You’re a former high-ranking civil servant, widely respected but firmly out of power,” Ignis answered.

“I see…I roll to teleport to Crumpet’s vacation house,” Regis said.

Ignis closed his eyes.  _Astrals have mercy._

“Reggie…I don’t think you can do that,” Clarus said, ribbing his son next to him to keep him from laughing.

“No, I’m doing it,” Regis insisted.

He ended up rolling a 20.  Because _of course_ he did.  Ignis picked up his own beer for the first time that evening, deciding he needed it more than he needed be sober later.  “You teleport to Crumpet’s vacation house.  There are several security guards on hand who – for the time being – are too stunned by your sudden appearance to act.”

The following hours passed in much the same way.  Nyx was stuck in a seemingly endless fight between half a dozen prison guards and a non-Newtonian slime – that is, until Clarus and crew dropped by to break him out, winning through the power of high charisma stats, fists of fury, and a magic spoon.  The four of them then spent most of their turns sneaking into the basements of various government buildings (and in one hilarious coincidence, rolling a critical failure while climbing through a window and calling Regis for help).  Their goal was to find a portal into whatever daemon realm Crumpet hailed from, though they were mostly unsuccessful.  “Mostly” due to the fact that they _did_ come across a questionably gold-plated tanning salon under the main finance building, though that didn’t prove anything other than Crumpet’s fondness for being unpleasantly orange.

Gladio, meanwhile, spent half his turns staying two steps ahead of Crumpet’s dox-happy followers and the other half rolling to seduce the dungeon master for hints – Ignis would make him pay for that _later_ (though, in all likelihood, that was exactly the outcome Gladio wanted).  Overall, he was fairly useless to the campaign, though he should have expected as much when his opener was insulting Crumpet’s undersized hands.  A terrible strategy by any standards save satisfaction.

In an _extreme_ case of beginner’s luck, it was actually Regis who carried the campaign – through a statistically near-impossible series of consecutive critical hits, the king knocked out all of the security guards, befriended the gardener and valet, and levelled up after complimenting the cook’s skill with milkshakes, learning to transfigure things into food in the process.  Quite the busy evening.  From there, it was a (relatively) simple task to challenge Crumpet to a duel and transfigure him into a moldy cheeseburger, thereby saving the populace.

_Well, there’s the cleanup afterward_ , Ignis thought as they packed up the game.  _But tabletop role-playing games never delve into the sticky parts of politics._

 

\--------------------------------- 

 

“Ready?”

Noctis ghosted his fingers over the notes and nodded.  “Let’s do this.”

Practice had turned to “ _practice_ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) _”_ and then back to practice again, and, by anyone’s standards, Noctis was making progress.  He didn’t have to consciously link each note to a fingering anymore, and while it would probably be a while before he could handle anything more complex than dotted notes and basic arpeggios, that was enough.

Prompto had spent most of the past two days practically _beaming_ , though it could be from any number of things.  Noct’s improving musical skill.  Prompto’s own role in improving that skill.  How many of those brownies he could eat before starting to feel sick from the sugar.

_Or maybe it’s because of…us,_ Noctis thought, mind wandering.  Wandering to some awfully nice places, where Prompto woke up next to him and there wasn’t anything to worry about… _yeah, that could be it._

“Dude.  Hey.  Eos to Noct!” Prompto said, waving his hand in front of Noct’s face.  “You’re zoning out.”

“Sorry, just…daydreaming,” Noctis said, poising his fingers over the right spots on the fretboard.  “Here goes.”

It was a classic song, and Noctis knew how the bass line was _supposed_ to sound even without playing it.  But actually making the notes happen himself, and in time with Prompto’s singing no less – it was something to be proud of, especially after so little time.

“Yeah, I’ll,” Prompto sang, “tell you something…I think you’ll understand.  When I.  Say that something.”  The sequence got a little more complicated here, but Noct managed it easily – just last week, he would’ve struggled.  “I wanna hold your hand…”

Noctis joined in singing, confidence growing.  “I wanna hold your hand, I wanna hold your hand.”

Prompto came in with the guitar for the next verse, his chords lining up with Noctis’s rhythm.  “Oh, please, say to me…you’ll let me be your man.”  _Of course, duh._ “And please, say to me – you’ll let me hold your hand.”

“Now let me hold your hand, I wanna hold your hand…”

The rest of the song went by in a breeze, and when it was over, Noctis, well…he wanted to hold Prompto’s hand.  So he did, the warmth of Prompto’s fingers entwined with his making him feel…the lyrics said it better than he could: _when I touch you, I feel happy inside._ It was silly, but he felt like the song, and Noctis watched with no small amount of wonder as Prompto laughed at the expression on his face, leaning forward to steal a kiss.

Two kisses.  Three.  Not enough.

Noctis gently moved Prompto’s guitar out of his lap, taking advantage of the opening to pull him closer.  Prompto smiled into the touch, fingers dancing in Noct’s hair.  Had he ever said how much he liked that?  He probably should.

There was a click and a whistle, and Noct turned to the source of the sound, expression turning to a glare when he realized it was Gladio with a camera.  “Hey, what gives?” Noct said, standing up with his arms still half-full of Prompto.

“Iris’s idea – we’re keeping a ‘shame album’ of every time…stuff like _this_ happens.  She says Edward’s got a piece ready for us.  You guys would’ve known to be ready if you weren’t all up on each other all the time and read your emails,” Gladio said.

“I think that’s a little unfair, don’t you, Noct?  We were practicing!  Until a few minutes ago, anyway,” Prompto said, moving to pry the camera from Gladio’s hands.  Well, _try_ , anyway.  Kind of hard to take something from a guy who wasn’t above holding it out of reach.

“Yeah.  Sure,” Gladio said.  “Come on, Iggy’s in the car.  We’ve got a hit to record.”

 

 ---------------------------------

 

Iris stood in the recording room with her hands in her pockets.  The wig was… _itchier_ , somehow, with all the bobby pins holding it in place.  And the side braid she’d styled it into tickled at her shoulder in a way that would take some getting used to.  But keeping up the Briana Epstein persona was important to the band’s anonymity, and of all the sacrifices to make, a little itchiness wasn’t too bad.

Especially because, against all the odds (well, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but they _had_ only been doing this band thing for a couple weeks) – the guys sounded _good_.

Ignis and Gladio had learned to work well with each other a long time ago, and that spirit definitely translated to music.  They kept up with each other very well, and it was pretty obvious that they listened to each other more than the other boys.  Which, well – Prompto was more of a ham at the mic than Iris had anticipated, delivering the lyrics with a confidence ( _and kind of a swagger?  Go Prompto!_ ) that she sincerely hoped would translate to live performances when they came along.  His guitar skills were similar, with mistakes here and there, but endearing ones all the same.

And Noctis?  Well, he looked good.  There had never been any doubt about that.  And he sounded…okay?  Edward would probably find a way to cover it up in the finished song, but it was really obvious that Noctis was still pretty new to this whole music thing.  He got slightly off-beat with Gladio every few phrases, and his volume occasionally messed up the balance.  _They’re just starting.  It’ll be fine_ , Iris told herself.  _And nobody starts out perfect – that only comes with time and effort.  Which I’m sure Noct will put in.  He better, anyway._

The song Edward had cooked up was pretty good, too – not really a _party_ tune like so many acts broke out with, but more of a driving-with-the-top-down song.  The sort of thing Iris would dance around her room to.  There wasn’t anything too musically outstanding about it, but Iris hoped that it’d touch enough people who listened to the radio to give the band an actual _audience._ A place to start.

“Alright, I’m gonna need drums and bass alone to re-record some things,” Edward said.  “Prompto, Iggy, you can come out here for a while.”

Gladio gave Iris a look like he’d seen this coming, and she shrugged.  Noct would catch up eventually, but for now, they had to let him roll along the learning curve.  _Yeah ~ roll along._

“Hey, how’d I sound?” Prompto whispered, standing next to her and giving Noct a little wave across the glass.  “I felt like I was kinda…doing too much, you know?”

“No, it was great!” Iris said.  _What was it Edward said…?_ “If you don’t feel like you’re doing too much, you’re probably not doing enough.  So keep pit up.”

“Ir – Briana, I need silence back here or they’ll be stuck in there even longer,” Edward reprimanded.  “Play the bridge again – and stay _on rhythm_ , Nick.  Just wait for the downbeat to come back in if you get lost.”

Prompto took a break to get some water, and Iris watched as Noct struggled to stay on-beat, becoming more and more frustrated as time went on.  Gladio took it like a champ, playing the same measures over and over again until Noct managed to get the timing right.

Well, no one ever said this wouldn’t be hard work.

By the end of the day, and after enough ordered pizzas to feed half an army, Edward had a rough track ready to go.  “I can probably smooth everything out by the end of this week, and then we can…uh…hmm.”

“I’ve got the radio stuff covered,” Iris said.  _Thank you, George._ “So we’re good to go?”

“I guess so,” Edward said.  “Let’s see how this track gets received and go from there, then?”

Iris walked the boys outside, stopping them before they got in the car.  She adjusted her glasses and crossed her arms.  “I’ve got a friend who’s willing to air the song once Edward’s done with it – what are you guys gonna do when that happens?”

“Um…is this…is this a trick question?” Prompto asked.

“You want us to be out and about, right?” Gladio said.

Iris nodded.  “I’m gonna try to spread it around campus, but teen girls won’t carry…”  _No, scratch that.  They totally would._ “Well, they _could_ get you guys famous on their own, but I think you’ll need a wider appeal to get into…you-know-where,” she said.

Regardless, the mental image of some border official’s daughter – or better yet, the border official themselves – fangirling over her brother and his friends enough to let them into the empire was pretty amusing.  Too bad things couldn’t actually work out that way…unless she’d heard wrong, they’d replaced all the actual border personnel with magitek troopers.  Way less likely to let them slip through on account of being a fan.

“A night on the town sounds good to me,” Noctis said.  “We won’t let you down, Iris.”  _Good.  Hopefully we won’t let Lucis down, either._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to everyone who was wondering what Regis's meeting was about, there you have it ;)
> 
> Coming up next - they release the single. Some other stuff happens, too, but we'll all have to wait for it.


	6. Drop That (Single and/or Obituary) Like It's Hot

In the business district of Insomnia was the picture of cool – a sharp young woman in a sharper raincoat, auburn hair blowing in the breeze.  The bright colors of her ensemble might have caught the eye of random passersby, but she walked above it, beyond.  This was a girl with a _purpose,_ a girl about to set the mission of the century in motion.  Her lipstick was _not_ smudged this time, no sirs, no ma’ams.  In her hand was a clutch, and in that clutch was a USB drive which held the power of _gods_ – or, at least, the power of a good radio-friendly single.

The picture of cool approached one of the taller towers on Garamond Avenue.  Her destination: the office of the moderately popular radio station where an acquaintance worked.  Plenty of people owed the picture of cool favors, and she was more than happy to take advantage of that.  It was the cool thing to do.  _Cool is as cool does, as they say.  Endless cool.  I’m…the cooliest._ The doors of the business tower opened with that satisfying sliding sound the picture of cool loved so much, and she stepped inside, eyes on the elevator.

What _wasn’t_ cool was when the clutch slipped from her fingers, contents spilling across the tiled floor.  The _very_ professional pencil skirt she was wearing made it difficult to crouch down, but she managed, returning her identification and the oh-so-important USB to their rightful place.

The picture of cool stood up.  Everything was fine – no one saw.  No one as cool as her, anyhow.

The elevator smelled musty, but she supposed that most elevators did, at least a little bit.  Even the ones in the Citadel got that musty smell sometimes.  It was the smell of a losing battle with long-damp fabric, of a long campaign against wet laundry.  But unlike that battle, the picture of cool was certain she would win the battle with public interest.  Youthful freshness and an eye for opportunity were, in spirit, all one needed to write a success story.

And Sgt. Prompto’s Lonely Hearts Club Band _had_ to be a success story – it was, very literally, for the world’s sake that she stood here now, wig itchy as ever.

The elevator stopped on the sixty-seventh floor, and the picture of cool stepped out, flashing a disarming smile at the man waiting to get on.  “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon…?” he replied, going on his way.  _He was clearly intimidated by my coolness._

“Hey lady, I’m gonna need some ID and…an appointment time,” a familiarly spaced-out voice said from behind the desk.

The picture of cool sauntered up to the desk and crossed her arms over the counter.  “Yes, _Briana Epstein_ is here with the hottest track in Lucis,” she said loudly.  “Psst.  It’s me, Iris.  I’m here for that favor?”

“Iris…?”  George looked at her for a moment.  “You look different.”

“That’s because I’m _Briana Epstein,_ manager of Sgt. Prompto’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” Iris said, projecting her voice.  Word of mouth was good.  It was great.

“But you just said you were Iris.”

“Yes,” Iris said, nodding.  “And I’m the band’s manager, Briana.”

“But…okay, so you’re not Iris, you’re Briana?  Why did you say you were Iris, then?”

This went on for much longer than was necessary, and almost longer than it was bearable.  George _knew_ who she was, they’d spoken just the other day, he was just being…difficult.  The picture of cool was about to _lose_ her cool.

“No?  That…doesn’t make sense?  I’m confused,” George said, shaking his head.  “Iris Amicitia, right?”

“ _Ugh,_ just…pipe down,” Iris whispered harshly, good mood soured by the overlong conversation.  “Yes, it’s me, but I’m going by _Briana Epstein_ on band business.  Okay!?”

“Oh.  Well, why didn’t you just say so?” George asked, holding his hands up in surrender.

Iris pressed her lips into a thin line.  _Really?_ “…Anyway, I have the track,” she said, reaching into her bag for the USB.  Thank the gods, it hadn’t fallen out on the way here.  Just the thought of it falling all the way down the elevator shaft made her anxious.

“Uh, neato.  So…I’ll put this in the lineup for tonight.  ‘Candlelight’ by Private Pepper’s Crazy Larks Club Band?”

Iris shook her head.  “Sgt. Prompto’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.”

“Sgt. Pepper’s Phony Darts Club Band.  Got it.”

“No – it’s Sgt. _Prompto’s Lonely Hearts_ Club Band,” Iris corrected.

George blinked before trying again.  “Sgt. Prompto’s Lonely Bartz Club Band.”

_I’m going to lose my mind._ Iris took a deep breath.  “Repeat after me – Sergeant.  Prompto’s.  Lonely.  Hearts.  Club Band.”

“Sgt…Prompto’s…Lonely…Hearts…Club Brand?”

“Club _Band_.”

George scratched his chin.  “Um…can you write that down for me?”

Iris sighed.  _I guess I’d better._ “Alright.”

The piece of paper he gave her was oddly sticky, and Iris couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose as she wrote down the band’s name, adding a note with the importance of not messing up the words and replacing them with something ridiculous.  That wouldn’t do at all.

On her way back to the lobby, Iris’s phone rang.  “Hello?”

“Um…are you the manager for…Sgt. Prompto’s Lonely Hearts Club Band?” a female voice asked.

“You bet I am,” Iris said.  “Briana Epstein, at your service.”

There was a moment of silence.  “Wait…Briana?  I was told you were Clarus Amicitia’s daughter.  Darn it, did I call the wrong number?”

_Not again…_ Iris closed her eyes, almost getting off on the wrong floor when she heard the doors open.  “Yes, I’m his daughter.  I’m using a pseudonym as their manager.”

“I guess that makes sense,” the woman said.  _Praise the Six, she understands._ “Anyway, I’ve been asking people left and right about what exactly my job is supposed to be, and they eventually referred me to you.”  _What exactly her job is supposed to be…_ “My name’s Holly, by the way.”

_Oooooh.  Wait,_ nobody _was willing to fill her in?_ “What do you know so far, Holly?” Iris asked calmly.  She needed to gauge whether or not Holly needed…more extensive debriefing than she’d already had.  If she’d had any to begin with.  Which it sounded like she hadn’t.

“Well, the mechanics working on His Majesty’s car have had me doing various odd jobs, and reading up on stage lighting.  Things like that,” Holly said.  “All that’s fine, but what I don’t understand is why a local band is getting help through the Citadel in the first place.”

Iris sighed.  _Whether or not she has clearance, she’ll find out who the boys are eventually.  I might as well tell her now and deal with the fallout._ If there even _was_ any fallout…it was pretty ridiculous that no one had told Holly what was going on.  And she had to admit – this whole thing _did_ seem really strange without context.  “Holly, if I pick up some food on the way over there, what would you say to sitting down and going over all this?  It’s a pretty complicated situation.”

“I’d really appreciate that, thank you,” Holly said.  “I’m in the…um…”

“Just head towards the entrance and we’ll find somewhere to talk,” Iris said.  “See you soon, Holly – and thanks for helping us out!”

“Sure, no problem,” Holly said before hanging up.  _I hope she doesn’t get lost on her way there._

Iris didn’t know if she’d be able to wrap things up with Holly before the song aired.  And as much as she _wanted_ to join the boys on their night out, she knew they probably didn’t want the little sister hanging around all the time.

Another thought struck her as she left the building.  Was she going to take time off school to join them when they inevitably left town?  Or would she have to manage from a distance?  _If only I was a few years older, I could do whatever I wanted. >.< One day._

 

\---------------------------------

 

Intense discomfort was a feeling Prompto had nearly always been familiar with, but familiarity didn’t make it suck any less.  Especially when he was clearly the only one having issues.

“Noct, when you said we’d be having a ‘night on the town,’ I thought you meant…something else,” Prompto whispered as they were seated.  “Like, a _more casual_ something else.”

“It’s not even sundown yet,” Noct answered.  “And blame Ignis – he’s the one who wanted a nice meal.”

Prompto was all for nice meals, but he wished someone would’ve mentioned the plans beforehand.  He felt _seriously_ underdressed, his leather jacket and jeans sticking out like a sore thumb amongst all the suits and gowns.  Sure, Noctis wasn’t really dressed up either, but he was the _crown prince._ Noct could get away with that stuff.  But Prompto?  No way.  He was just a regular citizen, _not even_ really, and this.  Wasn’t helping.

“I can hear you, Noct,” Ignis said, opening the menu with the sharp eye of someone who’d done this…many more times than Prompto.  _I don’t even know what half these words are,_ he thought, reading something that looked like the pasta selections.  _Is this even a real language?  A dead language?_ “I’ll have you know there’s a group of music aficionados who gather here on Friday nights, and who very well may request for our song to air,” Ignis continued.  “Regardless, the service here is rumored to be fairly quick.  Let’s stay here until we’ve eaten.”

“ _Or_ we could go somewhere more exciting,” Noctis said.  “Especially since Iris never said _when_ the song would air.  C’mon, Gladio.  Back me up here.”

“Don’t drag me into this,” Gladio said, menu in hand.  _He’s not dressed up either,_ Prompto thought.  _But at least he’s wearing a shirt._ “…And anyway, I’m with Iggy.  The food here’s good, and I don’t want to watch you get wasted off three drinks.”

“It takes more than _three_ drinks,” Noct shot back, a very un-princely pout on his face.

Gladio snorted.  “Not when your stomach’s empty, it doesn’t,” he said.  “It must suck to be a lightweight…not that I would know.”  Prompto laughed, and Gladio turned his gaze toward him, unforgiving.  “Like _you’re_ any better.”

“Hey – I can totally hold my liquor, big guy,” Prompto said.  “I just know where to stop so I don’t look stupid.”  It was technically true, though he was more of an _oversharing_ drunk than anything else.  The closest Prompto had ever gotten to talking about his past was one night in high school, when he and Noct had gone to a party and ended up locked in the attic with a case of rum.  As the rum disappeared, so did the wall Prompto kept up between his past and his present, and he’d started babbling on about things he shouldn’t have.

His earliest memories, blurry snapshots of soldiers (kinder ones than he’d ever met) with machine guns, and the searing pain behind his eyes when he saw the sun rise for the first time.  The heartbroken expression on those soldiers’ faces when they realized it, and the warmth of a hug from someone’s daughter, telling him it was alright.  A secret harbor and other people’s fathers, seeing him off with the two people he started calling Mom and Dad.

_I haven’t thought this much about it in a long time,_ Prompto thought.  _It feels like a dream after so much time.  You know what?  If…if I’m going back to the empire…maybe I’ll see them again.  Maybe I’ll get the chance to say thank you._

Slim chance, though.  Prompto couldn’t picture any of the others’ faces anymore – it had been too long, though if he ever managed to open that box under the floorboards, they’d be there.  Even if he could…sometimes he felt like whatever memories were gone, he wouldn’t want to remember anyway.  It’d just make it harder to pretend everything had always been fine, that he was who he said he was.  Thinking about it that night in the attic, and thinking about it now…it made Prompto feel sad.  Lost, almost.

And that night with Noct, as he’d said all of that out loud, Noct had looked at him like…well, it didn’t really matter how he looked at him.  ‘ _Prom…’_  Whatever he’d wanted to say didn’t come out – no surprises there.  But Noct had very nearly slipped off his wristband before he’d had the presence of mind to push him away and bang on the door, begging to be let out.

Prompto was just lucky Noctis hadn’t remembered anything about that party the next day…explaining his slip-up and his actions afterward without ruining their friendship would’ve been nearly impossible.

Yeah, he was definitely lucky on a lot of fronts.  _Back to reality, Prompto._ “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Ignis chimed in, after who knows however long Prompto had been zoned out.  The conversation quickly devolved into a battle of insults and defenses of honor – one that Prompto knew he would lose, but enjoyed all the same.

Just as Noct was steering the conversation away from his drunk warping incident (which Iris _still_ hadn’t told him about), the waiter dropped by, his irritation plain under a thin veil of courtesy.  “Your order, sirs?”

“The Altissian dip, please,” Ignis said.

Gladio closed his menu and slid it over Ignis’s.  “I’ll take the pesto, with some steak.”

“And the Cleigne rice bowl for me,” Noct said.  “Prompto?”

“I…uh…”  _Probably should’ve actually read the menu._ “I’ll take what Gladio’s having,” Prompto said.  “Minus the steak.”

“So pesto,” the waiter said.

“Yeah, that,” Prompto said, adding his menu to the pile.

There was no sign of that group of ‘music aficionados’ Ignis had mentioned during the time they waited for their meals, and when their food finally did arrive, Prompto dug into it with gusto.  _Mmm, this is good,_ he thought.  _If I added some vegetables and put a little less pasta in, I could try making this myself.  Better than eating salads all the time._

“Prompto, you look a bit pale,” Ignis said, eyeing him with concern.  “Do you feel alright?”

“Um, yes?” Prompto said, though now that Ignis mentioned it, he _did_ feel a little off.  Not enough to warrant concern – it was probably just his nervousness from earlier lingering.  Still, it was enough to feel… _oh no._ “…Actually, uh, my stomach’s starting to cramp up,” Prompto admitted, the familiar pains faint, but growing stronger by the second.

“Did you take your meds?” Noctis asked immediately.  They’d been through this enough times for him to know the drill, though it had been a while since Prompto’s last incident.

Prompto nodded.  “Yeah, and…wow, I felt fine a second ago, and now I’m…”  A sharper wave of pain spread through his lower abdomen, and he laid his forehead on the table, feeling more lightheaded by the second.

That last part was new.

“Ignis, shouldn’t we… _do_ something?” Noctis asked.  Regardless of what anyone said about Noctis, he had _excellent_ judgment when it came to certain things – like identifying anxiety attacks, of which this definitely wasn’t one.  So, yeah, maybe they should do something.  Except calling an ambulance would mean drowning in bills for the next year and _well,_ if Prompto wasn’t feeling anxious before, _he sure was now._

Unfortunately, Prompto didn’t get a chance to weigh in before he blacked out, his last conscious thought being something like _what the hell, stomach._

 

\---------------------------------

 

The next few hours were nothing short of _terrifying,_ even if Ignis had assured him that he was overreacting.  His palms had been ridiculously sweaty since the moment Prompto passed out, and he felt like he was running a marathon.  Bad news.  Bad, bad news and _gods wherever you are you better lay off of him._

Well, no one else seemed terrified _enough,_ so it was natural that Noctis pick up the slack.  ‘ _Overreacting?!  Prompto collapsed right in front of us!’_ Noctis had said, fuming about not being let past the waiting room.  ‘ _What if – what if he’s – ’_

_‘People faint all the time,’_ Gladio had said, way too calm for the situation.  ‘ _He’ll be fine.  Just give the doctors time to do their thing.  We’ll be back with Iris in a few hours.  Try not to blow up while we’re gone.’_

Okay, sure, maybe passing out wasn’t such a concerning thing.  But this was _Prompto_ , Prompto who already had the anxiety and stomach problems, and maybe a whole host of other things Noctis didn’t know about, and this specific thing had _never happened to Prompto before._ So yeah.  He was terrified.

Thank the astrals, it was only a half hour before a doctor came out to the waiting room and looked around.  _Don’t get your hopes up, it might not be about Prompto._   “I’ve got a patient back there asking for the crown prince?” she asked.  The ‘ _I think my patient’s delusional’_ went unsaid, but Noctis heard it all the same, and it would’ve been worrying if he wasn’t already one hundred percent pure, unadulterated worry.

Noctis stood up.  “Prompto Argentum?”

“That’s the one…Prince Noctis,” the doctor said, motioning for him to follow her.  _Finally._

“What the hell happened?” Noctis asked, the doctor’s clipboard of notes looking way too _empty_ for comfort.  _Is an empty clipboard bad?  Is it good?_

She shrugged, further freaking him out.  “His blood pressure was on the low side when he got here, and he’s definitely dehydrated.  I gave him an IV and some fluids; he should be fine in a few hours.”

Noctis frowned, trying to put together the words.  _Where’s Ignis when you need him?_ “What…but…why did he pass out like that?”

The doctor frowned.  “Prompto’s young.  These things just happen sometimes – I know that might not be the answer you want to hear, but that’s how it is.  He wasn’t showing any signs of an allergic reaction or anything remotely alarming, so my recommendation to make sure he’s drinking enough water and eating at regular intervals.  Keep an eye on him, give him some TLC if he needs it.  He’s probably pretty tired.”

_What kind of blackout prevention is that?_ “So if we do that, Prompto won’t collapse again?”

“It certainly won’t _hurt_ to eat enough and stay hydrated,” the doctor said, “but again, we don’t know exactly what caused this.  Running more tests would be expensive, time-consuming, and in all likelihood, not very helpful.”

Part of Noctis knew she was right, that what happened wasn’t world-shattering, and that doing more tests would do more harm than good.  But the prince part of him didn’t want anything else to happen to Prompto _ever_.  _E v e r._ Especially if it was at all within his power to help.

The only thing that stopped him from pleading for them to find more information was his knowledge of Prompto’s ongoing financial situation – his friend was good at managing the funds he had, but the cost of this visit as it was would stress him out. Ignis had been smart enough not to call an ambulance, instead opting to drive them to the hospital with a speed and recklessness he usually didn’t use, but hospital bills were no small matter.  And Prompto had always been very touchy about getting help from Noctis, though he would probably do anything in a heartbeat.

They reached a section of curtain that the doctor pulled back, and Noctis was beyond relieved to see Prompto awake and looking at his phone, face tired and a bit pale, but _alright._

“Are you doing better?” Noctis asked, taking the seat next to the bed.

Prompto nodded and set his phone down.  “I’m feeling better,” he said, looking up towards the bag of fluids hooked up to his IV.  At some point, the doctor must’ve had him take off his shirt, because he was wearing one of those paper hospital gowns over his jeans.  But his bracelets were still in place.  _I hope they didn’t take too much convincing about that._   Prompto sighed.  “That was pretty scary, though.”

_Yeah, it was._ “I’m glad you’re okay,” Noctis said, though it didn’t feel like the words were enough.

“Noct, I’m really sorry about ruining our night out,” Prompto said, and it was kind of obvious he’d been preparing to say something like this.  “I know you wanted—”

“I don’t care about the night out,” Noctis said.  Like it was even a _question_ where his priorities lie.  “All I’ve wanted for the past few hours is to know you’re okay.  So.”  The rest of the sentence died on his lips, and he shook his head.  “Just…don’t be sorry, okay?  About any of it.”

Prompto gave him a thumbs-up, the absurdity of that response in this situation making both of them laugh, and Noctis felt himself relax a bit.  “So there is some _good_ news…” Prompto said teasingly, with a quick glance toward the door – the doctor had left again, presumably having better things to do than watch them talk.  “I’m pretty sure Iris’s radio friend aired our single already, because we’re getting a lot of followers on Thunderoc and Flanstagram.  Some of them are definitely Neha’s and Iris’s friends, but a lot of them are people I don’t recognize.  So, fans!  In a social media sense, anyway.”

He handed Noctis the phone to look at, and he scrolled through the notifications.  There were a lot of comments like ‘ _check out this new song’_ and ‘ _this band seems pretty lit’_ and _‘can’t wait to see more from you guys,’_ as well as a handful of likes on their (not very many) Flanstagram photos.  And, thanks to his dad’s longtime refusal to have him photographed and Prompto’s reluctance to post direct shots of his face, there wasn’t any gossip about someone in the band being Prince Noctis.

“Do you think this is good?” Noctis asked, handing the phone back.

“Uh, _yeah?_ Dude, this is pretty great for it only being a couple hours.  We definitely owe Edward and Iris big time,” Prompto said.  “So…do you know when they’re gonna let us go?”

Noctis shook his head.  “Doc just told me to take good care of you when we leave.  I quote, ‘give him some TLC if he needs it.’”

Prompto laughed.  “I definitely won’t say no to some _tender loving care_ ,” he said, grinning in amusement.  And waggling his eyebrows

Noctis ruffled his hair.  “Nerd.”

 

\---------------------------------

 

“I still can’t believe you watch this crap,” Dr. P said, watching R-double-K plop down in front of the couch with a bucket of popcorn.  “This isn’t…it’s not even _real_ news.”

“It’s as real as anything else!  It’s just less depressing,” R-double-K said.  “And you’re the only one who doesn’t like it.  Right, boys?”

“Right,” the other two said in unison, though Dr. P was pleased to note that R-single-K seemed somewhat less enthusiastic about… _fluff_ news than Captain S.

_If we’re gonna watch something silly, make it…Saturday morning cartoons or something._ Dr. P liked the morning cartoons – they were funny and usually had nothing to do with the real world, which, like her friends agreed, was super depressing.  She supposed that _technically,_ fluff news served the same function as cartoons, even if she didn’t like it.  And she definitely didn’t like it.

But if her girlfriend wanted to watch celebrity gossip, Dr. P wasn’t going to stop her.

“I’m sure all of you out there have noticed this by now, but the pop culture scene is pretty quiet right now here in Niflheim,” the host said, positively chipper about it.  “Ever since the emperor’s hospitalization, the entertainment industry has been put on hold – which makes it kind of hard for us to put together a show, right?”

“Is she seriously admitting they don’t have anything?” Dr. P asked.

“Shhh,” R-double-K said.  “I heard something on the radio while I was in the shower that they might talk about.”

“So it’s a good thing Lucis is still going!” the host said with a laugh.  “A new band from the Crown City released their first single last night, and ladies and gentlemen, it is _fire_.”

The host didn’t even say the name of the band before playing the track, an upbeat tune about who-knows-what, and R-single-K watched with a stupidly smitten gaze as Captain S danced to the song.

_Wait a minute_ , Dr. P thought, gears turning in her head.  “…What are the chances this is the band Lady I told us about?”

“The timing’s good,” R-double-K said.  “And that lead singer’s voice is _really_ good.”

“Seriously, guys,” Dr. P said.

R-single-K looked away from Captain S and shrugged.  “Why don’t we just…wait and see?”

“Yeah, we have enough to do with all that stuff Brandon told me last week,” Captain S said.

R-double-K laughed.  “You mean _you_ have enough to do, Mr. Biographer.  You’re the one who volunteered for the job.”

Captain S looked like he had a reply ready to go, before the channel abruptly changed to an official government broadcast.  “What’s this?” Dr. P said, turning the volume up a bit.

“Citizens of Niflheim,” a familiarly smooth voice said, soon accompanied by a familiarly smug face, and Dr. P instinctively frowned in disgust.  _Ugh._   “It is with the greatest sorrow that I inform you all – Emperor Iedolas, despite the top-quality care from St. Rosa’s Hospital, has passed.”

“Wow.  What a surprise,” R-single-K deadpanned.  “Never would’ve guessed.  _Shocker._ ”

“And that coffee filter chancellor is the one who did it, too!” Captain S said, and Dr. P had never been happier that she’d checked time and time again to make sure their apartment wasn’t bugged.

Izunia cleared his throat before continuing.  “This is a time of mourning, but this tragedy also necessitates a transition – what is an empire without an emperor?  The remaining government officials – of which I assure you, there are plenty – will undertake the task of reorganizing our fine administration in the upcoming days.”

“’Reorganizing?’  He’s just gonna take over, right?” R-double-K said.

“Probably,” Dr. P answered.  She had to admit, she didn’t feel anything stronger than ambivalence about this change.  Ardyn Izunia was a nightmare, but was he really any more so than the emperor?  Did it even matter?

_Well, yes,_ Dr. P thought.  _He’s been the man behind the curtain this whole time.  And now he can do whatever he wants._

“I know what you’re thinking,” R-single-K said.  “Whatever he does, it’ll be gradual.  Or at least, he’ll make it look that way.”

Dr. P disagreed.  Sometimes she felt like she was the only one who remembered why they were even in the rebel network in the first place, and what kinds of things Izunia (and Besithia, and everyone else in their crowd) was willing to do.  Sure, some things might be gradual.  The continued stripping of their civil rights.  The advancement of their magitek-based military.  But the intersection of the two – that was where the danger was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a _lot_ of deliberation as to what Edward was gonna pull from the real world, I decided on Relient K's "[Candlelight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGv0ANmPUm8)," because I love Relient K so much you guys, also this could make for some amusing Cindy-related things later.
> 
> Coming up next, _welcome, folks - to the Ardyn administration!_ It's time to get some things set in motion.


	7. Welcome, Folks - To the Ardyn Administration!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this chapter fought me the whole way, thought y'all oughtta know_

“Sir, please,” Brandon said, politeness diminishing by the second.

“Another moment, if you don’t mind.  I’m reminiscing.”  It was no small business, taking over an empire, but Ardyn rather thought he’d pulled it off beautifully.  Being the force behind a figurehead was not the path he’d wanted all those ages ago, but it was a fitting one nonetheless.  Who could fault him for stopping to smell the roses, now that they’d finally bloomed?

And the blooming had certainly taken its time.  Over the millennia, Ardyn had lived almost every life imaginable.  The life of a youth, a friend, a messiah.  A pariah.  A chronically drunk hermit (that had been an interesting century), followed by a somewhat less drunk historian ( _too easy_ , having lived through so much of the key events).  He might’ve dabbled in theater at some point, before cameras made their way back into the pool of readily available technology.  He’d played more parts than he could count – but each of them men of no consequence.  On the fringes, never acting, always plotting.  Waiting for the right time to act.

As the lifetimes wore on, Ardyn began to see the patterns of humanity.  How certain brands of disruption were purely temporary, and would soon be forgotten.  A life spent making fiery statements could easily mean nothing, and a man with nothing to lose could live by his own rules and face no consequences, compared to the eternal sentence he already carried.  Yet history repeated itself, though in more elegant ways.  A simple, subtle action repeated from a bygone age could become the catalyst of chain reactions that started wars, ended dynasties.  Brought chaos – though not enough, _never enough_ for the gods to wake up and understand where they’d failed.  The debt they owed him.

And through all the chaos, Lucis still stood.  Their crystal and their _nuisance_ of a ring, forged from the power of usurpers, protected them from whatever havoc the Aldercapt line dared wreak upon them.  It took a long time – too long – for an opportunity to present itself, so once it did, Ardyn latched onto it with everything he had, bending the paths of history to his will.  After all, revenge was a dish best served cold, and there was nowhere colder than Niflheim.

“Chancellor, sir, the broadcast goes live in two minutes,” Brandon said, holding his clipboard in one hand and a water bottle full of _something_ in the other.  “I know you hate being rushed, but—”

“It’s quite alright – I believe I’m ready,” Ardyn said amicably, adjusting his hat one more time.  He’d decided to keep the title of chancellor for the time being – he’d held most of the power under Iedolas’s rule anyway, and the title of ‘ _king’_ was something he was reluctant to take until…certain plans had come to fruition.

Iedolas, in one of his last orders before Ardyn’s appearance, ordered the construction of a specially fortified balcony on the southwest side of the capitol building.  It was a lavish structure by Gralean standards, though it would seem drab amongst Insomnian architecture.  The late emperor, unfortunately, hadn’t had much use for it – the open architecture made anyone on the balcony an easy target for, say, a bullet to the head.  Security had warned him the press conference would be better located on the front steps, or the throne room, or almost anywhere else, but in the unlikely event the rebels chose to take direct action, they couldn’t touch him anyway.  And an attempt on his life would be an excellent excuse for Ardyn to hunt down their so-called ‘ _president’_ and watch as their ranks dispersed.

In short – given the circumstances, it was the perfect place for Ardyn to usher in his new administration.  And as he took a stand at the podium, sizable crowd waiting behind the lines of reporters, he felt the satisfaction of a man who would not be thwarted.

“Citizens of Niflheim,” he began, “it is thanks to the quick work of our ministers that the government has transitioned so quickly following the tragic death of Emperor Iedolas.  I stand before you today as your continued chancellor, prepared to carry out and preserve Iedolas’s vision for this nation.”

It was a short introduction, and not very flashy, but that was the point.  Best to save the flashiness for the bastards who deserved it.

The first reporter to grab his attention was, he was pleased to note, wearing a scarf that nearly matched his in pattern – though it wasn’t Ross (the biographer had requested to be in the public standing room section, in order to capture the moment as a regular citizen, and Ardyn had no reason to deny such an artful request).  “Chancellor Izunia, now that the transition of power has completed, will the restrictions on domestic industries be lifted?”

_I sometimes forget how little the common folk care for the things that matter._ “There will be a series of new orders in the upcoming weeks outlining the expectations of domestic industries,” Ardyn said.  “I would expect…certain freedoms and protocols to be altered, but other than that, the answer to your question is _yes_ – industries will be allowed to resume production.  The prosperity of our fair empire is, of course, a top priority.”

The next question was on that mistake of a magitek project, the rallying cry of that pesky ‘resistance.’  _I should never have allowed Verstael to proceed with that one in the first place.  Producing the units with curated daemon souls would have solved the problem, but of course he and Iedolas wanted to create a public relations nightmare first._ “I have no plans at this time to resume the MTP program,” Ardyn said, the polite tones of his voice becoming more forced.  “The invasion of Tenebrae and all subsequent operations have been _nothing_ short of successful, even with the loss of MTP integration – our current production methods are optimal, so there is simply no need to make changes.”

The same reporter had a follow-up question.  “Chancellor Izunia, are the current line of magitek soldiers _truly_ optimal if MTP is still a ghost in the system?  What about the recent blackout?”

She had done her research – Ardyn gave her that much.  The blackout that, for a brief period before Iedolas’s death, had oh-so-conveniently rendered most MTs immobile received little more than a passing glance by the media.  For good reason – there was no reasonable cause for it.  ‘ _A freak accident,’_ the head of magitek security had called it.  _‘Fatal errors sometimes occur at random, and easily spread through an interconnected system.’_

An interconnected system Ardyn had never supported.  “If I could remove all traces of MTP from the magitek army, I would,” Ardyn said.  “As it stands, that program is nothing more than a trace – a label, so to speak, that every MT carries.  It has served as the bedrock for most of our intra-magitek data transfer systems, so removing it would be logistically impossible.  Any further questions on the matter should be directed to the magitek security department.”

Those sorts of painfully detailed questions dominated the press conference for another hour – for the love of fedoras, dramatic press conferences for were dramatic, sweeping statements about Niflheim’s future place in the world, not factual information on policy!  After what _would_ have felt like an eternity if he hadn’t already been acquainted with it, a reporter in the front row finally asked the money question.  “On the topic of carrying out the rest of Emperor Iedolas’s vision – what does that look like to you?”

_At long last, the question I came here for._ “It’s fairly obvious, is it not?” Ardyn asked.  “Niflheim possesses the crystals of every nation in the world, save one.  All that’s left to do…is to conquer the kingdom of Lucis.  Which I rather think we have the means to accomplish.  Don’t you all agree?”

A gust of cold wind, blast Shiva, swept through the square, and Ardyn faked shivers as it blew its way home to the ice goddess.  The crowd behind the reporters began shouting chants of ‘ _Nippleheim,’_ like they were so fond of doing whenever Shiva sent chills their way, and Ardyn debated for a moment how to deal with it before settling for a bow.

“In case the winter storm becomes more severe, I think it best we end this little gathering,” Ardyn said, unclipping the microphone from his collar.  _Good evening to you all, and whatever Lucian moles have burrowed near._

 

\---------------------------------

 

The George guy behind the front desk was giving him weird looks, and Prompto pushed his glasses back up for the fourth time in as many minutes, feeling self-conscious (well, more so than usual).  _Is there something on my face?  I mean, the glasses, but…they don’t look_ that _bad, do they!?  Maybe he’s just high._

“You look uncomfortable,” Ignis said, his own glasses stupidly straight.  Of course they were, Ignis wore his _way_ more often than Prompto did.

“I _am_ ,” Prompto said.  “I look stupid and we’re about to be on an _actual_ radio show.  With _actual people_ listening.”

“Don’t be,” Ignis said.  “Prompto, you’ll be fine.”

“Seconded.  I dunno how Iris – uh, _Briana_ does it,” Gladio said, looking around.  “But you should be grateful we’re getting publicity.  And it’s a radio show – no one’s gonna see your glasses.”

Prompto had a hard time finding the words to justify why… _I know, Gladio, but I still feel weird about it_ just didn’t cut it _._ Being ushered out the door by Ignis five minutes after waking up (Noct must’ve turned off the alarm so he could rest, but he’d been fine for _days_ ) didn’t leave enough time for any part of his morning routine, and Prompto saw too many signs of the chubby boy of yesteryear in the dashboard mirror on the way here.

The guilty boyfriend in question returned from the bathroom with a lazy smirk on his face.  “Man, you look cute in those glasses,” Noctis said absentmindedly, biting his lip once he realized he’d said that out loud.

_Oho…that’s something new~._ “I’d ask you if you’re just trying to boost my ego, but…” Prompto said, crossing his arms.  “That look on your face speaks for itself.”

“…What look?  I don’t have a look,” Noctis said, though he was still wincing.

“The first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem, dude,” Prompto said.

“Pfft.  Recovery from _what_?”

“From thinking I’m _cute_ or something,” Prompto said, pushing up his glasses again. 

Noctis snickered.  “You are, though.”

The unmistakable click of a phone camera drew Prompto’s attention to the other side of the room.  “Another one for the shame album,” Ignis said, motioning for them to follow.  “We’re up next.”

Unless he’d read Iris’s message wrong, the radio station had a weekly show where they interviewed local musicians – and while the content was usually superficial, considering recent events, it was likely they’d be asked about Nifheim’s recent transition _._ The timing was, admittedly, _super weird_ for the band’s first public appearance, but they’d take what they could get.  Noctis hadn’t heard the news until it reached the public airwaves, which meant…well, Prompto wasn’t sure what it meant.  The marshal, the king…none of them had said anything.  But they had to have known before the general public.

_Wait.  Hold on…is the dinner with Noct’s dad tonight?!?!  Holy shit?!?!?!_ “Psst,” Prompto said, poking Noct just as they reached the doorway into the recording room.

“What’s up?”

“When are we having dinner with your dad?”

Noctis shrugged.  “I thought it was tomorrow.”

“Are you _sure_?” Prompto asked.  “Because _I_ thought it was today.  And.  There’s _kind of_ a difference.”

“Hmm.  I’ll ask Ignis after this is over,” Noct said, and of course _he_ wasn’t at all anxious about seeing his dad, but _by the Six he knows I’m dating Noct now, doesn’t he???  This???  Is suddenly even more terrifying???_

The girl giving the interviews gave off a way less creepy vibe than George the receptionist, and she gave them a concise yet fitting introduction as they took seats around the mics.  “I know you boys are musicians, but the public’s buzzing about other things right now, so – if you don’t mind, let’s get to it.”

“Not at all,” Noct said, and the others voiced their agreement shortly after.

“Great!  So, folks, to review – the leaked broadcast from a few days ago contained more information than anything that’s reached Lucis so far,” the interviewer said.  “In a matter of days, the old emperor died, and they’ve already got the chancellor in a leading role.  Well, more leading than usual.  And what’s more, the guy spent _ages_ dishing out the deets on Niff policy.  I’m assuming you boys have all read the full transcript, yes?”

“You betcha!” Prompto said, though it wasn’t entirely truthful.  _Skimming counts at least a little, right?_

“They won’t get into Lucis,” Noct said, and Prompto could tell he was making an effort not to put more authority into the statement than ‘Nick Callaway’ had any right to.  “It’s been centuries, and they’ve never managed it before.”

“That Izunia dude didn’t even give a timeline or anything for it,” Prompto added.  “He just said ‘oh yeah, we can probably do this.’”  _I read that much of it, anyway.  That and the MT stuff…_

“Well, why _would_ he go into details?” Gladio asked.  “It’s not like that guy’s any stranger to leaks.  Maybe he planned for everything he said to make it to Lucis.”

“The real question _I_ have, Joanne,” Ignis said, who, bless him, had actually managed to ask the interviewer her name, “is not about Izunia’s foreign policy.  I think none of us were _truly_ surprised by a promised invasion – this is, after all, the last free nation on Eos.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I think we can all agree on that,” Joanne said.  “What’s your – wait, we’re getting a caller.  Uh, Nick?”

“Mmhmm?” Noct said.

“Hi Nick, I’m Sophie!  I heard your guys’ new single and it was super cool!”  The girl sounded about twelve.  Kid fans were good.

“Thanks,” Noct said.  “It really means a lot—”

“And I just wanted to say, you sound _so much_ like Prince Noctis!  And he has, like, a super nice voice, so I definitely mean that as a compliment!”

The girl clearly hadn’t meant it like ‘I think you’re lying about your identity _,’_ but Prompto cringed all the same.  _Well, that was bound to happen at some point.  Let the conspiracy theories begin…_

Noct laughed nervously, looking at Ignis for guidance.  Joanne the interviewer gave him the ‘start talking’ gesture, and Noctis shrugged.  “Aw…shucks,” he said, and Prompto almost burst out laughing at the words.  _Shucks!?_ “Though, I’m sure the prince is _way…_ um, sexier than me.  In every conceivable way.  Definitely.”

Gladio snorted, which in turn caused Prompto to start giggling, and it was only thanks to Ignis’s death stare that the two of them managed to calm down in a timely manner.  Or at all, really.

“Was it something I said?” Noct asked.

“Dude, you don’t just talk about how sexy the crown prince is while you’re on the radio,” Prompto said, despite…still being on the radio.  _The rumor comes out: is Nick Callaway gay for Prince Noctis?  Lol that’d be hilarious…_ “That’d be like me saying that the king should wear booty shorts the next time he goes out in public because he’s, like, the kingdom’s daddy.”

A moment passed.  In complete silence.  Joanne blinked.  Ignis his face in his hands.  Gladio’s poker face was admirable.  And Noctis looked absolutely scandalized.  “Oh my gods, I didn’t _mean_ that,” Prompto said.

“That caller, uh, hung up.  So what were you saying about Izunia’s foreign policy, Iggy?” Joanne asked, and it was to her endless credit that she wasn’t cracking up over Prompto’s _extreme social mishap._ “Or was it that it _wasn’t_ about foreign policy?”

“The latter, John,” Ignis said.  _If people don’t know he’s with the Citadel already, they will by the end of this interview.  Stop being so formal, my Iggs.  Iggy Shears._   “I like to keep up with news from the empire, and many of the policies mentioned are things I’ve never heard of.”

“Yeah, what’s this Employee Discretion Act that he talked about in the middle?” Gladio asked.  “Or the MTP program that one reporter kept asking about?  We’ve seen a lot of types of MTs since they started cropping up, but I’ve never heard of MTP.”

“Okay, but what about when the crowd started chanting _Nippleheim_?” Noctis said, completely off-topic.  “I mean.  _Nippleheim._ ”

“Haha, that was definitely a highlight,” Joanne said.  “I can imagine some kids out on the edge of the crowd going ‘chancellor of bofa!’  ‘Bofa what?’”

“Bofa deez nips!”

The conversation never quite got back to Niflheim’s domestic policy, which was all good and fine – Prompto planned on rereading the parts of the transcript that talked about it later, anyway.  For reasons.  _MTP…I hadn’t heard of it before seeing it in the news.  At least, I don’t think I have.  But a trace of an obsolete comms system…_

 

\---------------------------------

 

So…the dinner wasn’t tomorrow, it was tonight – Prompto was, terrifyingly, _right_ about something.  By the time they’d gotten back to Noct’s apartment, they barely had any time to get ready for dinner.

He’d frantically done his hair and contacts after the ( _gods, why did I say that thing about the booty shorts, what if King Regis heard about it already)_ interview, putting on the closest thing to a formal shirt he had – though, on second thought, as Ignis pulled in front of the Citadel, he was pretty sure he was wearing one of Noct’s.  _Captain Yikes strikes again._

Noctis led him (by the hand, which was…distracting) down several hallways to the dining room, and before Prompto had gathered the presence of mind to prepare for seeing the king not only as his son’s friend, but as his _boyfriend,_ and also the guy who kind of suggested he show off his legs to the world, they were there.

_Oh gods, it’s just the three of us.  I mean, of course it’s just the three of us it’s a Caelum family dinner oh gods – calm down, Prompto.  It’s just…….hmtmmrmmmdmmfmmm no it’s not fine._ He gulped and took his seat on one of the long sides of the table, as Noctis sat opposite his father on either end of the table.  Drinks had already been set out for the three of them, and Prompto took his in hand, almost disappointed it was just water.

“I’m glad you could join our family dinner, Prompto,” Regis said, his voice giving no indications whether or not he was about to turn into a googly-eyed rage monster and smite Prompto where he stood.  Worst case scenario, of course.  “Do try to relax – this isn’t an interrogation.”

Part of Prompto (the rational part, evidently) was relieved, but the other part didn’t quite believe it.  “Uh…you sure?  Cause, I always thought ‘meeting the parents’ was supposed to be, y’know…”

“But you’ve already met,” Noctis said.  “Unless you mean…oh.”  _Yeah._

Regis chuckled.  “I believe it would be an abuse of power if I attempted to intimidate either of you, even more so considering Prompto already seems rather anxious.  Though, if you _want_ the fatherly relationship lecture, so be it.” 

Prompto gulped, expecting the worst.

“Use protection,” Regis said after a moment, prompting both Noctis and Prompto to spit out their drinks.  _Not the first thing I expected to hear_ , Prompto thought, and one look at Noct showed he was thinking much the same thing _._   “Honesty and communication are vital to maintaining a healthy relationship.  Wash stains out sooner rather than later.  Don’t microwave eggs whole – _especially_ not in your significant other’s kitchen.  On that note, there’s a fairly long list of things I hear you shouldn’t put in microwaves.  I think Clarus has it.”

He went on like that for a while, the advice getting stranger and stranger, and Prompto _almost_ thought he was off the hook about his earlier comments.  “Close the blinds, and – I ask this as a father, Prompto, not as a king – do not let my son leave his apartment in _booty shorts_ , as nice as they may look.  And Noctis, if you ever see me frolicking about in those, assume it’s an imposter and _stop them_.  Before they do irreversible damage to my public image, or my thighs.”

Noctis blinked.  “…Uh, sure.”

“And you, Prompto?”

He nodded quickly – a little too quickly, bangs falling across his face.  “Yes, sir.  I mean no, sir.  Whatever, sir.”  _#Yikes._

“Good.  Noct’s safety and happiness are, of course, the most important things,” Regis said.  “On that note, I think it’s safe to say Izunia’s rhetoric held more promise than suggestion, if you catch my meaning.”

“You want us to skip town,” Noctis said, clearly on the same page as his father.

_Skip town…_  “Yes, that would be wise.  It will be more difficult for your band to gain popularity without access to Insomnia, but ideally, you two, Ignis, and Gladio will leave Lucis as soon as possible,” Regis said.  “I’ve made arrangements for you to set out in the morning, if that’s not too soon.”

Prompto gulped.  _Already?_ “Leave Lucis altogether?”

“That _is_ the end goal.  And if fortune favors you, Altissia is a mere boat ride from Galdin Quay,” Regis said.  “The arts flourish nowhere more so than Altissia.”

“Okay…but Dad, what will you do?” Noctis asked.  There was a pleading tone to his voice Prompto hadn’t heard before, and he felt more like an intruder than ever.  _He could be the little boy in the courtyard again, wide-eyed and lonely…_

Regis shrugged.  “That depends on what Niflheim does.  The fact that Izunia is after the crystal is a given.  What else he might want is…hard to say.”

Noctis took a deep breath and looked up from his plate.  “Don’t…don’t die, Dad,” he said, his voice almost cracking under the weight of those words.

His father gave a small smile.  “I’ll do my very best not to, son.  I promise.”

Prompto took a sip of his water, trying to take up as little space as possible.

 

\---------------------------------

 

“Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, to the counter.  I repeat, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, to the counter.”

Luna stood up in a hurry, earning plenty of stares from the other poor souls in Altissia’s emigration office.  _Would they have been more or less surprised if I’d worn Oracle white?_ No, what would have been the most surprising was if they all succeeded in booking passage out of Accordo.

The woman behind the counter handed her a booklet that looked remarkably like a passport, giving her a wan smile.  “You’re awfully lucky this got pushed through – Oracle or not, closed borders are closed borders,” she said.  “Has Accordo’s novelty worn off already, Your Highness?”

“No, of course not,” Luna said, signing the passport.  “It’s simply…”  _Now that the government has fully transitioned, I could be summoned to Gralea any day.  And I…_ “I wish to see Lucis, while it remains free.”  _While Noctis and King Regis remain free.  The Six know what Ardyn has planned…never mind.  Ardyn may not even know what Ardyn has planned._

“You and everyone else in this office, Lady Lunafreya,” the woman said, stamping the signed passport.  “I hope you find what you’re looking for there – oh, your passport was greenlighted on the condition you take an escort.  He should be at the docks, if you’re ready to leave immediately.”

_An escort…_  The only comfort is that while this ‘escort’ could be any number of magitek monstrosities, the chancellor himself could not leave Gralea unattended under the present circumstances.  So at least _he_ wouldn’t be joining her.  “Thank you,” Luna said, placing the passport in her handbag.

Luna made sure to take in the scenery of Altissia’s winding streets one last time as she walked to the docks, suitcase rolling behind her.  The sun was already halfway up the sky, its light reflecting off Leviathan’s waters.  _I’ll be back one day_ , she thought, _though…probably not for a long while._

She was pleasantly surprised to see, of all people, _Ravus_ waiting at the docks.  “It took you long enough to get here,” he said, ignoring her surprised.  “That boat on the end is assigned to take us to Galdin Quay, and from there, I’ll rent a car and drive you north.”

“Thank you so much, Ravus,” Luna said, “I—”

“It’s no trouble,” Ravus said, though his expression said differently.  Luna could only imagine the strings he’d had to pull to get her through.  _I’ll make it up to you later, once we’re both in Gralea._ “I’ll drop you off inside the Crown City and head back to Tenebrae.  The chancellor will most likely send another escort to take you out of the city before…”

“…Before he attacks,” Luna finished, the words sour on her tongue.  _At least this gives me time to warn them.  Things could always be worse._ “You’re not staying with me?”

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Ravus said.  “…Just between you and I, the contest for who will be chosen to lead the invasion of Insomnia is between General Glauca and myself.”

The polite, sisterly thing to say would have been along the lines of ‘ _I’m rooting for you’_ or ‘ _I pray for your success,’_ but the last thing Luna wanted to see was the fall of Insomnia, regardless of who carried out the orders.  “I pray the operation does not result in many casualties,” she settled on, giving her brother a searching look.  _What is it_ you _want?_

“Luna, whatever things may look like, know that I’m trying to protect you,” Ravus answered.  _Maybe, but you also seek glory.  ‘First Son of Tenebrae’ doesn’t have the same ring to it as it did in ages past._ “Let us hurry – I’m sure you want as much time with the king and prince as possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next on the docket - Hammerhead shenanigans. I won't go into too much detail ;) ~~because i'm not 100% sure what i want to happen other than like two things~~


	8. "Instant Crush" by Cindy and the Aurums

The dualhorn fell with a resounding thud, and Noctis unequipped his sword, dusting off his hands.  The hunting was satisfying, in a certain sense, but…  “Cor, how many more of these things do we have to kill?” Noctis asked, stretching out his arms.  _I might actually get sore if we keep this up._

“However many more it takes for Prompto to feel comfortable with that handgun,” Cor said simply.  “And for Cindy to finish tuning up the Regalia.”  Noctis knew his friend wasn’t exactly confident in his skills, but did he really need to be, with three companions trained in combat?  On a mission where they only had one target?

_Maybe this is for my sake, to distract me or something._ Well, Noctis was perfectly fine and didn’t need to be distracted from _anything_.  He’d said goodbye to his father that morning, it was nothing special, and they’d see each other again when this was all over. 

They _would_ , he had to believe it.  _No way the Niffs will take Dad down easily_.

Considering where his train of thought was leading, Noctis figured maybe he _did_ need a distraction.  But he’d had enough of Leide’s local wildlife.  “Can we at least take a lunch break?” Noctis asked, pushing his bangs back.  He wasn’t exactly _sweaty_ yet, but… _doing laundry on the road probably isn’t all that easy._

“I vote lunch,” Gladio said, rolling his shoulders.  While likelihood of Gladio actually being sore was basically zero, this was the first day they’d actually fought real monsters.  So there was a _very small_ chance even Gladio would feel a little stiff later.  Very small.

“Yeah, me too,” Prompto said.  “I’m so hungry I could eat a whole…”

“Dualhorn?” Ignis suggested.

“Nah, more like a whole chickatrice,” Prompto said.  “A whole platter of chickatrice sandwiches…with the good mayo…yeah, I could go for that.”

Cor sighed.  “Lunch it is,” he said, defeated.  “Let’s go, the walk won’t get shorter if we keep standing around.”

The marshal set a brisk pace back towards civilization, and the boys fell in pace behind him, boots kicking up Leide’s famous dust around them.  Ignis and Cor in front, Noctis and Prompto in the middle, and Gladio bringing up the rear – it would’ve looked like a royal retinue if they hadn’t all been wearing casual clothes, even Cor.  They’d strayed a good half mile from the road in search of dualhorns, and Noctis took off his hat as the sun beat down, desert baking around them.   _Man, it’s hot._

“Appreciate the heat while you can,” Cor said, as if he’d read his mind.  “It won’t be so nice once you get to Niflheim – it’ll be all snow and ice until you complete the job.”  _Until.  Not when, not if.  Until._

“Yeah, for sure,” Prompto agreed, shrugging when the others looked at him.  _Didn’t think he’d second that so easily._ “Hello?  It’s not like I would know from, haha, experience or anything.  But…it’s Shiva’s domain, right?  Of course it’s cold.”

“Prompto, did you even pack anything with sleeves?” Gladio asked.  “Actually, don’t bother answering that.”

Ignis waved his agreement.  “We all already know the answer is a firm _no_.”

“It’s my aesthetic, guys,” Prompto said, and Noctis couldn’t help but laugh.  Prompto _did_ have arms worthy of showing off.

“Your aesthetic’s gonna give you frostbite before the end of the road,” Gladio said.

Noctis elbowed Prompto.  “Don’t worry, I can lend you some things.”  _Like I don’t already._ There was another, smaller thought that went along with that one: _He looks good in my clothes._ Noctis almost shoved that thought under the rug before remembering those sorts of things were fine now.  At least between the two of them, and out here, that was all that mattered.

The five men walked in silence for a few minutes, no sound accompanying their footsteps except for the thunder of a blue car speeding past.  The lack of activity seemed distinctly…off.  Noctis was a bit surprised that they hadn’t been ambushed by any sabertooths since finishing off that last dualhorn.  _Those things are everywhere around here, even if you keep fighting them off._   “Hey, Cor?”

“Noctis?” the marshal asked, turning around.

“Doesn’t it seem…a little weird that we haven’t seen any more sabertooths?” Noct asked, gesturing around the area.  Another blue car drove in the other direction, though more slowly than the last one, _still_ the only sound in the vicinity.  “It’s just us and the sound of those cars.”

“Are you sure that’s not…the _same_ car as before?” Ignis asked, turning around to face Noctis.  “The windows were tinted, but it looked like those two cars were the same model.”

Noctis frowned.  “Not what I was asking about.  The sabertooths – what about them?”

Cor frowned in turn, clearly thinking the matter over, but Gladio huffed, and Noctis turned to face him.  _Here comes the snark._   “I know you can be one to look for a fight,” he said, “but why are you _complaining_ that we’re not being jumped?”

“I’m _not_ ,” Noctis said loudly, and he thought he might’ve heard a faint ‘ _I don’t care if you don’t have time, stop the car_ ’ in the distance, though it was hard to tell over his own words.  “I’m just saying…there’s usually more wildlife around here.”

Gladio turned away from the road as well, taking in Noctis’s point that there were literally no monsters anywhere _.  Do you believe me now, Gladio?  I thought I had more credibility than this._

The others had gone silent as well, and Prompto gave a thumbs up, probably to Ignis or Cor.  Noctis barely even formed the thought to ask what was going on before his boyfriend gripped him by the shoulders and turned him around in time to be caught in a hug and the scent of flowers, a kind that didn’t grow in Lucis.  It had been a _long_ time since Noctis had smelled sylleblossoms – the ‘twelve years’ kind of a long time. 

The lack of sabertooths suddenly made a lot more sense, and Noctis relaxed into the hug, beyond happy that even if their reunion was…in the middle of a desert…and under very strange circumstances…at least it would be happy.  _Knock on wood._

“Noctis!” Luna said, stepping back with a smile, though it wasn’t the kind she wore for the cameras.  “I barely recognized you, you’re all grown up!”

“And I’m even taller than you now,” Noctis said, returning the smile.  The words felt natural and awkward at the same time, like he was eight years old again.  Luna was…she’d always been dazzling, and comforting, and generally wonderful, and he kind of felt a little inadequate next to her.  _But she’d never in a million years want me to feel that way._

When he was younger, after Tenebrae but before Prompto, Noctis had been made keenly aware of the future need to marry.  It was a time of relative peace, with the empire stabilizing its hold on Tenebrae, and the royal advisors had invited him to sit in on a meeting about his own future.  _‘Noctis is too young still,’_ Regis had said, _‘and besides, we cannot protect Insomnia through marriage.’_ The royal advisors had kept going despite his protests, and Noctis had eventually blurted out that if he had to marry anyone for politics, he’d want it to be Luna.

He remembered vividly – a hush had fallen over the room, and the advisors had, though slowly at first, given nods of assent.  After a few minutes, they started calling the idea ‘ _fitting_ ,’ ‘ _genius_ ,’ and a whole host of political words that Noctis didn’t learn until later.  Regis hadn’t been _ambivalent_ to the idea, exactly…but he did make it clear he wanted Noctis to follow his own heart unless there was truly no other option.

And after getting to know Prompto, and after…well, everything else that had happened since then, his father’s words made a lot more sense.

“What brings you to Lucis?” Noctis asked, the ‘ _how did you even get here?’_ going unsaid.

Luna looked down, smile faltering slightly.  “It’s…I made a deal with the chancellor,” she said.

_Oh no.  What if…no.  I’ll make sure she stays safe.  Somehow._ “What kind of deal?” Noctis asked, and it was then he noticed most of the others had cleared out, leaving them more or less alone.

“In exchange for performing… ‘diplomacy’ in Gralea,” Luna said, using airquotes, which wasn’t a gesture Noctis was used to seeing from her, “the chancellor granted me the freedom to travel for a short time.  Even so, I needed Ravus to vouch for me to get _here_ , specifically.”  She paused.  “I needed – I couldn’t do what needed to be done from Tenebrae.  And compromise is unavoidable.  At least, that’s what Ravus told me.  I have no doubts working with the chancellor will be…uncomfortable, at best.  But why are _you_ out here, Noctis?  Shouldn’t you be in the crown city?”

Noctis looked over her shoulder to the car, where Cor and Ignis were interrogating a man who looked an awful lot like Ravus.  _He’s an imperial officer now, isn’t he?  I can’t…I probably shouldn’t tell her everything here.  But later.  Through Umbra.  It’ll be fine._ “It’s complicated,” he said apologetically.  “You’re going to see Dad, right?”

“Yes,” Luna said.  “I imagine…there are some things he may want to tell me.  And vice versa.”

Cor made his way back over to the two of them, expression gruff as always though Noctis could see a hint of apology under it.  “Lady Lunafreya, your brother is requesting you return to the car, lest he be late for something he said was ‘vitally important.’”

“…I understand,” Luna said with a nod.  “I’ll see you soon, Noctis?”

“I hope so,” he said.  _In Gralea, if not before.  I hope…if that chancellor plans on using you or…I need to stop thinking about this.  Between you and Dad…I’m gonna lose it._   Noctis shoved the sudden anxiety down, hoping to deal with it never.  “And then we can catch up for real.”

 

\---------------------------------

 

“Holly, how’s the stencil comin’ along?” Cindy asked, bending over just a _little_ further than necessary as she put the finishing touches on the new paint job.  The hood was all ready to go, whenever the logo was finished.

“I’m not cut out for this sort of thing,” Holly said, taking a step back from the workbench.  “I guess…it’s nothing special, but it looks alright.”

Cindy stood up and moved over to where Holly stood, hands on her hips.  “Don’t sell yerself short.  It looks good,” she said, pleased when that got a smile out of Holly.  “Simple n’ clean…and if I use the fancy spray paint…hmm.  Hol, go ask Paw-Paw for some tea.  I got an _idea_.”

She had a spare box in the back full of some…interesting paint colors, shades customers would ask her to make and then back out on once they saw the results.  Neon blue, neon yellow, neon everything.  A bright silver.  Enough mixing in the letters and Holly’s simple font would look _amazing._   The boys were gonna love it.  Or, at least, Cindy would.

The stencil fit over the hood nicely, as it should, and Cindy started with the neon blue, filling in most of the first ‘S’ as well as half the ‘Lonely’ and most of the ‘Band.’  She continued much in the same manner, painting in the stencil until the whole band name was a veritable tie-dyed mess.  _Take off the stencil and…_

“Impressive,” Holly said from behind her.

Cindy turned around with a smile.  “Ya really think so?”

“Yeah, you made my plain Jane logo look downright _fantastic_ ,” Holly said, and Cindy thought the other mechanic looked downright fantastic herself, in a sleeveless plaid and a snug pair of capris.  At least, she looked fantastic compared to Cindy in her greasy work jacket.

_Wow Holly with awesome creativity: check.  Now.._.  “So, any particular reason the prince is in a band now?  If this ain’t the Regalia, I’m a bike with no wheels,” Cindy said, giving her lips just a _slight_ pout.

Holly blinked and looked away, and what’s more, she actually bit her lip.  _Mmhmm.  Give her the puppy dog eyes: check._   “…It’s a long story.  Took me a whole evening just to understand the whole thing,” she said.  “But how did you know?”

“I’m a mind-reader,” Cindy said lowly, before breaking into a laugh.  _Show her I’m sharp as a tack and funny to boot: check._   “The king called Paw-Paw this mornin’, said the boys and the marshal might be fixin’ to stop around here.  Didn’t say _why_ , though, an’ I gotta say it’s all a bit confusin’.  A _rock band_.  Pop band.  Whatever kinda music they’re playin’.”

Holly explained the situation to her, and Cindy took it all in, as well as the _gorgeous_ way Holly’s hair framed her face when the sun was behind.  “So they gotta take out that carpet-wearin’ chancellor, then,” Cindy said once Holly was finished.  “Sounds like it’ll be an adventure.”

_‘Next time somethin’ – or someone – good comes your way, you should go for it.’_ Cindy almost couldn’t believe she was seriously considering this, but… _Jan, I think I’ll take ya up on that offer.  Oh, but what’ll Paw-Paw say?  I can’t just leave the garage._

Her idea turned out to come at a very opportune time, as Cid walked into the garage with one hand on his back and the other on his hat.  The decision-making posture.  “I reckon it’ll either be the adventure of a lifetime, or a goddamn _mess_ ,” Cid said.  “What the hell is Reggie thinkin’…?  Anyhow, I don’t trust those boys to handle themselves out there.  Holly’s gonna lose her mind tryin’ to keep things rollin’.”

“I’ll be fine,” Holly said.  “They’re alright.”

“Hmph.  You were with ‘em for maybe a few hours,” Cid said.  “An’ my back aches just _thinkin_ ’ about how crowded the old girl’s backseat was.  Cindy.”

_I think I know where this’s goin’._ “Yes, Paw-paw?” Cindy asked.

“I can handle the garage for a while.  You go along with Holly an’ the boys an’ make sure they come back safe,” Cid said.  “The Niffs…wouldn’t even trust ‘em half as far as I could throw ‘em.”

Cindy couldn’t help but shoot Holly what she thought was a pretty dazzling smile.  _Road trip with Holly…!  Even if we’re goin’ to Niflheim, this is gonna be good._ “But Paw-paw, I don’t think the six of us’ll fit in the Regalia,” she said, knowing full well what the response would be.

“Then take the Jeep,” Cid said simply.  “More room fer luggage that way, too.”

“Sounds like I better get packin’, then,” Cindy said.  _The spare toolkit’ll have to come, for sure.  Can’t have any roadside breakdowns.  What else…oh, I don’t have enough long pants for Niflheim.  There’ll be thrift shops in Altissia, though…_

And in Altissia…Cindy didn’t have much to work with in the way of nice clothes except for cropped shirts and shorts, and a couple sundresses, but that’d have to be enough at least through Accordo.

_\---------------------------------_

“This is where I leave you,” Ravus said, the Citadel only a few blocks away.  _I may have some diplomatic immunity, but you…yes, it’s best if you’re not seen._ “Good luck, Luna.  And _please_ , don’t do anything rash.”

“What damage could I possibly cause?” Luna asked.

“I can think of a number of things,” Ravus said.  “Promise me.  I’m a… _tonberry’s toe_ if you don’t plan on telling the king everything you can, and I won’t bother trying to stop you.  But don’t put yourself in danger.”

_A tonberry’s toe._ It had been ages since Ravus had used that phrase…since she was still young enough to skin her knees playing or get stuck in trees, and Luna had to make an effort not to laugh.  “I promise,” she said.  “When will we see each other again?”

“I doubt it will be until after…well, you know,” Ravus said bluntly, getting back in the car.  “Goodbye, sister.”

“Goodbye to you too, brother,” Luna said, shifting her purse farther up her shoulder as he drove off, back out towards the city limits.  That was just the way of things – he’d never been an _affectionate_ brother, but the fact that she’d made it all the way here was evidence enough – the bonds of family held firm.

_Now, to the Citadel._ Insomnia was nothing and everything like the pictures all at once, but Luna didn’t trust herself to wander around without getting lost.  So she cut a straight path to the Citadel, quickly enough to avoid the attention of passersby, though no one seemed particularly keen to pay attention to her.  All the better.

The entrance to the Citadel was manned by two of the Kingsglaive, one of which slipped inside a few moments before she was within talking distance.  “Um…hello?” she said, catching the attention of the second guard, a tall man with hair shaved on the sides, much like Noct’s friend Gladio had been wearing his hair earlier.  “Is it alright to pass?” she asked.

Luna could always just tell him who she was, but…most people already knew.  There were enough pictures of her floating around.  And there was always the chance she’d be deemed an imposter and questioned, which had already happened once on the way to Accordo, and Luna did not wish to repeat that experience.

Playing it by ear was _not_ something she was used to, though.  “That would depend on who you are, miss,” the guard said with the barest hint of a smirk.  Luna almost felt like she was being… _teased,_ but she couldn’t bring herself to be frustrated over an ‘ _almost_.’

“Lunafreya Nox Fleuret,” she answered.  “I have identification if you—”

“It’s alright, that won’t be necessary,” the guard said.  “You’re pretty recognizable, Lady Lunafreya, and Libertus – the other guy – already went to notify the king.  If I may escort you inside?”

“Of course,” Luna said, falling in step with the man as he led her towards the building from which the Lucis Caelum line had protected their kingdom for centuries.  It was…the final bastion of the free world, so to speak.  _Ardyn Izunia plans to infiltrate – this I know.  To take power and capture the crystal at a minimum, though I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s after some other things as well._

There was one question brimming at the top of Luna’s cauldron of thought – in the event that the chancellor succeeded in taking Lucis, what would become of Noctis and King Regis?  _Accordo was granted relative autonomy, since their economy and trade position is far too valuable to risk with total imperial rule.  Tenebrae is lost, the Nox Fleuret line rendered useless._

“A lot on your mind?  There must be, since you’re here,” the guard said, and Luna realized she’d been standing still for more than a few moments.

She shook her head, then nodded, smiling apologetically.  “I’m sorry,” she said.

The guard led her farther into the Citadel, whether to the throne room or some other area she didn’t know, and Luna felt…awkward, suddenly.  There were many things Luna had gotten used to feeling since she’d become the Oracle, but _awkward_ wasn’t one of them.  _Noctis would laugh if I told him.  I’m about to see his father for the first time in twelve years, and I feel awkward._ “So, what’s your name?” she asked the guard, hoping to break the ice.

“Come on, I’m on the job.  Small talk is a distraction,” the guard said, and Luna tilted her head, getting that teasing almost-feeling again.  _Is he joking…?_

“You just asked me a moment ago if I had a lot on my mind,” Luna said flatly.  “Is that not small talk?”

“You got me there, Lady Lunafreya.  The name’s Nyx Ulric,” the guard said.

Luna nodded.  “Well, nice to meet you, Nyx.”

Nyx chucked.  “Nice to meet you, too,” he said, stopping in front of a very normal-looking door.  “His Majesty is having an afternoon snack, and he thought it would be better for you to catch up here than in the throne room anyway.  Since it looks like we’re speaking frankly…he’s got a lot on his plate right now and would probably appreciate an outsider’s opinion.  Which, I’m sure, you would be happy to provide.”

_How did he hear about that since I arrived…?_ Luna looked at Nyx for a moment, trying to figure out if he was a mind reader or something and – _oh, he’s got an earpiece._ Then Luna realized she had been staring and coughed before she had time to feel embarrassed.  “Goodbye, then,” she said.

Nyx simply nodded in response, turning around to head back to…his post, probably.  Luna blinked.  _I rather think he’s made an impression on me._

 

\---------------------------------

 

There wasn’t much else to do in Hammerhead, which broke Prompto’s heart (an exaggeration, but it was still sad).  There was something about the little town and ts quirks that just fascinated him – ‘ _paradise for a technophile like you_ ,’ Noctis had said when they pulled in.

Hell yeah, it was.  If it weren’t for their current, uh, _mission_ , Prompto had a passing interest in mechanics and design that might’ve led him to engineering school, once he’d saved up the money.  _I could still do that when we get back…or if we make good money, I could take my share of the cash and start photographing for real._

Something about that second idea seemed a lot better than engineering school.

Prompto moseyed around the convenience store, looking at the varieties of potato chips they carried.  Many of them were identical to brands in the Crown City, but some of them looked new and exciting – ‘Almighty Cosmo Carrot,’ ‘Rocket Town Rhubarb,’ and ‘Mid-Eel Gar’ ( _a fish flavor, I should tell Noct_ ) in particular.  Prompto almost wanted to buy one for the road, but the thought of Ignis’s well-intentioned remarks on his eating habits and Noct’s less well-intentioned warnings about dirtying his dad’s car kept him from it.

“Twigs in the back!” he heard Gladio say from outside, and Prompto made it out of the convenient store just in time for Gladio to take shotgun.

“Man, really?” Prompto asked, crossing his arms.  “ _Really_?”

“Just get in,” Gladio said.  “Wouldn’t you rather share the back seat with Noct, anyway?”

Prompto frowned.  “Well, yeah.  But…what about Holly?”  _Definitely not gonna get cuddly when there’s someone else in the backseat.  That’s kinda weird._

A hand brushed past his shoulder, and Prompto would’ve jumped if he didn’t recognize Noct’s touch.  “She’s got a different ride,” Noctis said, walking past him to take his usual seat in the back left.

It was then that Prompto’s gaze moved toward the hood, and he saw something that made him break out in a grin.  “My…my name’s on the Regalia!” he said, jogging over to it and ghosting his hands over the logo.  “In psychedelic colors!  This is so groovy…who did it?”

“Holly’s ride,” Gladio answered, and as if on cue, a very imposing-looking Jeep drove around from behind the garage, Holly in the passenger seat and that _wonderful_ mechanic Cindy ( _I definitely wouldn’t trade Noct for anyone, but I can still appreciate true beauty when I see it,_ Prompto thought) driving.  She pulled the Jeep out of the garage’s lot and parked it on the roadside, hopping out.

Prompto noticed Cindy’s clothes were different than before, though he made very sure not to do anything that could be construed as checking her out.  “What’s up, Cindy?”

“Paw-paw figured y’all could use some extra space – me an’ the old Jeep can do the job,” Cindy said, adjusting her hat.  That was different, too – it wasn’t the hat with the garage’s logo anymore, but that of some sports team Prompto had never heard of.  _The Goers?_   _Gophers?_

“You don’t mind another person coming along, right?” Holly asked, gaze pointed directly at Noctis.

Noct shrugged.  “No problem.”

_Cindy’s coming along…!  Awesome!_ Prompto bounced in his boots.  “Wait – before we go, can we take a picture?  All of us together?  And the Regalia, of course, cause like – the logo looks _awesome_ , and—”

“Quit yer yappin’ an’ hand me the camera,” Cid said, suddenly appearing next to Prompto in the way old men generally didn’t.  “I’ll take the photo, then y’all can git on yer way.”

It took a few minutes before the six of them were arranged in any way that made sense – Cindy was perfectly okay with posing on her side in front of the Regalia, but Holly said she’d rather stand, Gladio couldn’t be anywhere other than behind anyone else, and Noctis hated smiling for the camera.  In the end, Prompto joined Cindy on the asphalt, and Gladio and Holly took one side, Ignis and Noct the other.

“Y’all say cheese on the count of three.  One…two…” 

“Cheese!”

Prompto stood up and took the camera back from Cid, looking at the results.  It was a pretty good shot, all things considered – a little editing and it’d be the perfect start to their road trip scrapbook.  _Boy band scrapbook.  Ridiculous assassination mission scrapbook._

The others had all already returned to their respective vehicles by the time Prompto put the camera away.  “Get in,” Noctis said, “unless you want to be the groupie instead of Cindy?”

“Hey, I heard that!” she shouted from the Jeep.  “I’m a lot of things, but I ain’t no _groupie_.”

_And so_ , Prompto thought as they pulled out onto the highway, _Sgt. Prompto’s Lonely Hearts Club Band departed from Hammerhead, journeying south to face new adventures, perform new songs, and generally have a good time on their way to give a certain chancellor a very bad time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....I'm still not happy with how this chapter turned out, but sometimes I just have to remind myself that things usually seem more well-done when you're not the writer.
> 
> Coming up next - Galdin Quay and band-related things. Getting into Altissia is gonna prove to be......difficult. ~~though not as difficult as getting _out_ later, hurr durr.~~

**Author's Note:**

>  **Please please please tell me what you think** \- I love comments, and if you don't want to leave them here I'm on Tumblr @magitek!


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